Carry That Weight
by JPC
Summary: Sequel to “The Longest Day." Faith comes to Sunnydale and helps Buffy defeat the First, albeit at a very high cost. Meanwhile, Angel and Connor must battle a vampire who puts all other to shame. CD, AB, BS
1. Faith Swoops Down On Buffy's Town

Faith says goodbye to Angel. Lindsey drops her off in Sunnydale, creating quite a ruckus, not to mention more than a little jealousy.

It's 6:30, Sunday morning. The sun is coming up. Connor, who's showered and dressed, runs into Angel's bedroom and turns the lights on. A bleary-eyed Angel sits up.

ANGEL: Connor! Is something wrong?

CONNOR: No. Everything's cool.

ANGEL: Then why did you wake me up?

CONNOR: I'm going over to my place to pick up the rest of my stuff so I can move it over here.

ANGEL: You're moving in?

CONNOR: I told you that yesterday. Is it okay?

ANGEL: Sure. Of course. I just forgot. Yesterday seems so long ago.

CONNOR: Can you give me a lift?

ANGEL: Do you know what time it is?

CONNOR: You're right. I'm sorry. Forgot the sun was out. Can I have your keys?

Angel's not quite sure if he's having a surrealistic dream. After all, there's nothing more surreal than Connor acting like a normal teenager. That only drives home the absurdity of his request.

ANGEL: The keys to my car? You don't even know how to drive!

CONNOR: I can learn. How hard can it be?

ANGEL: Don't touch my car. Ever. Unless I'm with you. It's a stick shift. You'd wreck the transmission. And if you thought I was mad after you locked me in that box . . .

CONNOR: Can you teach me to drive?

ANGEL: Sure. When it's dark and I've had some rest.

CONNOR: Cool.

Connor turns off the light and leaves the room. Angel plops back down and tries to go back to sleep. He's happy that Connor wants to live with him and no longer acts like he hates his daddy's guts. But a nagging voice in the back of Angel's mind tells him it has to be some sort of trick. After all, this is Connor.

Several of the Potentials are in the upstairs hallway, waiting to shower. Fadila and Ariella start yelling at each other. The argument becomes very heated. Ariella yells a few things in Hebrew and Yiddish, and Fadila tosses out a couple phrases in Arabic. Giles steps between them. Buffy runs upstairs to see what the problem is.

BUFFY: Look, I know it's a pain, but we all have to wait.

Giles by now has separated the two of them. They storm off.

BUFFY: Crowded house starting to get on their nerves?

GILES: I think it's a bit more complicated than that.

BUFFY: Is there some personal stuff between them I should know about?

GILES: The problem is, it's not personal at all.

BUFFY: I'm not following.

GILES: Let me explain. [Giles and Buffy walk into her room] Buffy, you know that Ariella is from Israel.

BUFFY: I vaguely remember hearing something about where she came from. What does that have to do with anything?

GILES: Fadila is Palestinian.

BUFFY: What? I thought she was from Michigan.

GILES: She is. Her father's on the Dearborn city council. But her grandfather was from Haifa. The family's house was seized during the 1948 war.

BUFFY: Seized by who?

Giles groans.

GILES: The Israelis.

BUFFY: Oh. So she blames Ariella for that?

GILES: Not personally.

BUFFY: Then why the bad blood?

GILES: [sighs] Sometimes I regret causing you to miss so many classes. Fadila's people and Ariella's people have been at each other's throats since before I was born. Naturally, the two of them have some differences of opinion, to put it mildly. If think heard them talking about Abraham, who is supposed to have lived in Hebron, where Ariella lives. Things started off friendly enough. Ibrahim's something they have in common. But before I knew it, they were debating the Right of Return. Things soon spiraled out of control. Ariella said Muhammad never went to Jerusalem. Fadila shot back that David and Solomon never existed. By then, tempers were hot on both sides.

BUFFY: Is this something I can fix?

Giles ponders this naive question for a moment.

GILES: Buffy, I believe solving this problem is beyond even your powers. [pauses and realizes that wasn't what she was asking] However, talking to each of them would be very helpful. For our particular situation.

BUFFY: What other situation is there?

Buffy goes downstairs. Ariella is sitting in the living room. Buffy decides to play peacemaker.

BUFFY: Hey.

ARIELLA: Hey.

BUFFY: So you and Fadila were arguing?

ARIELLA: Yeah.

BUFFY: Look. I know that your people and her people don't get along, but we're all in this together. You're both Slayers. You've been Chosen to fight against the ultimate evil. And that bond is stronger than anything that could divide you.

ARIELLA: Okay.

BUFFY: Okay?

ARIELLA: You're right.

BUFFY: Oh. Thanks. Huh?

ARIELLA: I already knew that. Why did you give me that speech? Not that it wasn't a nice speech. [Buffy smiles. She's done so much speechifying, yet received so few compliments.] Did Giles freak out about our little argument?

BUFFY: Little? You two looked like you were about to throw punches.

ARIELLA: Please. I've had uglier arguments with members of my own family. We were just having a debate. Didn't you ever have passionate political debates in your house? Or, I don't know, at school? Or with you friends?

BUFFY: No.

ARIELLA: Sorry. I forgot you have other priorities, being the Slayer and living on the Hellmouth and all.

BUFFY: Right . . . I'm sure if that wasn't the case me and my friends would, you know, probably care about the world. [Buffy's old fear that she'd be shallow if she weren't a Slayer resurfaces] So everything's okay with you and Fadila?

ARIELLA: Yeah. I'm glad she's here. I wish more Palestinians would come to America.

BUFFY: Thanks for sorting things out for me, Ella. Sometimes Giles can be a little alarmist.

ARIELLA: That's his job, right?

BUFFY: Someone's gotta do it.

ARIELLA: Plus, he's the only adult.

BUFFY: I'm an adult! My friends are adults. Giles is the only . . . elder.

ARIELLA: The patriarch. [smirks, since she knows Buffy's the one with the actual decision-making power]

Having proven the mountain to be a molehill, Buffy walks into the kitchen, where Fadila is looking through the Sunday Sunnydale Times and Anya is eating breakfast.

BUFFY: Morning, Fadila.

FADILA: Hey. Weird night, huh?

BUFFY: You have no idea. I just wanted to make sure you and Ella were getting along.

FADILA: You mean what happened upstairs? Just a clash of cultures.

BUFFY: No. There is no clash. Not in my house. You're both Slayers.

FADILA: I meant between us and Giles. He's English. Quiet and reserved. Not used to people raising their voices. He couldn't tell the difference between fighting words and fighting.

BUFFY: They do tend to go together around here.

FADILA: Ella's cool. Sure, her politics are really naive. Like how she doesn't understand that action have reactions. But, you know, that's not her fault. She probably gets it from her parents, so I don't hold it against her.

BUFFY: I'm not saying that all of you have to be friends. I just need to know that in a battle, you'll work together.

FADILA: We are friends. I mean, Next to Zora, Ella's the one I'm closest to. I'm glad she's here in America. I think more Israelis should come here.

BUFFY: That's funny. She said the same thing about your people.

FADILA: [laughs] That doesn't surprise me.

ANYA: You shouldn't be mad at Ella's people. They took over your country and kicked your people out. Now your people have to go to some other country and kick those people out. That's how things have always been.

FADILA: You mean ever since you became a Vengeance Demon back in, like, the Dark Ages?

ANYA: I hate when people call it that. It's not like were savages. Sure, there was the annual virgin sacrifice to ensure the Spring planting. But that got rid of the stuck-up popular girls who thought they were better than me because they didn't put out. Boy, were there faces red when they got their comeuppance.

Lindsey and Faith sit in the back of a limo. They are heading over to the Hyperion to say goodbye to Angel before leaving for Sunnydale.

FAITH: Last night, did I say "I love you"?

LINDSEY: I think I remember you saying that. You don't?

FAITH: It was . . . during, right?

LINDSEY: Yeah.

FAITH: You say a lotta stuff . . . you know —

LINDSEY: So you didn't mean it?

FAITH: Probably not then. But I mean it now. Hell. I do love you, Lindsey. [he smiles. she looks down at the floor and seems embarrassed] Damn. Never said that before. Feels pretty lame. But real. And now, right when I say that, I gotta split. Just my luck.

LINDSEY: I don't need to be back until tomorrow morning.

FAITH: I'd feel bad about keeping B waiting. You know how much she misses me. [laughs]

LINDSEY: Admit it. Now that your work's done here, you want to go where you're needed. Where you can help people.

FAITH: Please. You make it sound like I have a choice.

LINDSEY: Well, don't you? You could bail and not help her. Or anyone else. You're a free woman.

FAITH: When you get super powers, you get lots of enemies. I kill them, they don't get to kill other people. It's a package deal.

LINDSEY: I get it. You're no longer too cool to admit you love me, but you're still too cool to admit you like making the world a better place. On second thought, it does sound really lame when I put it that way.

FAITH: Wicked lame.

LINDSEY: Funny thing is, you're not cool.

FAITH: This how it works? Tell a guy you love him, he stops trying?

LINDSEY: You're hot.

FAITH: Getting better. But I always thought I was both.

LINDSEY: You're too intense to be cool. You make everything, everyone around you come to life. After being around you long enough, anything seems possible. How else do you think I could've fought all those vampires yesterday?

FAITH: Nothin' ya hadn't done before, right?

LINDSEY: Never one-on-one, to the death. To say nothing of a series of one-on-ones. I'm a lawyer. I'm used to delegating my demon-killing.

FAITH: I just meant you seemed like ya knew what you were doing.

LINDSEY: That's nice of you to say.

FAITH: Guess I ain't the only one who's pushing the fake modesty.

LINDSEY: I'm no tough guy. Just have good survival instincts.

FAITH: Something we got in common.

LINDSEY: Except I'm nowhere near as strong as you.

FAITH: Like that needed saying.

LINDSEY: I'm not talking about the Slayer Strength. That's just borrowed hand-me-down power you got from someone else. It's not what makes you incredible. You think any other Slayer — you think Buffy — would still be around if she had to go through what you've had to go through? I don't know her, so I can't say, but I doubt it. The pain's a lot easier to take when you know there are people around who'll miss you if you give up.

FAITH: But there are. Aren't there?

Faith smiles. Lindsey and her move their heads towards each other. They are about to kiss when the limo stops. Faith looks out the window.

FAITH: Looks like we're here.

Faith smiles and stares at him for a few seconds before getting out of the car and walking into the Hyperion. Angel is trying to organize his office. He has the door open. Faith and Lindsey enter, holding hands. Angel turns his head and sees them.

ANGEL: Wasn't expecting visitors. Not that I mind.

FAITH: Wanted to say so long before heading off to Sunnydale.

LINDSEY: You've healed pretty quickly.

FAITH: Lot faster than me. Not a scratch on ya.

ANGEL: It's a long story. How are you doing? I know you both took a lot of punishment, yesterday. [of course, for Angel, it wasn't yesterday]

FAITH: It's good to have you back.

ANGEL: Thanks for everything, Faith. It means a lot when someone tries to save you and doesn't give up, even when you're trying to kill them.

FAITH: Just returning the favor.

LINDSEY: I'll let you two catch up. [exits the room. Angel and Faith stand in silence for a few seconds]

ANGEL: So you're with, Lindsey.

FAITH: Finally found a guy I could nail who wasn't a loser.

ANGEL: Plus, he's no longer evil. He is, right? He's been known to fence-sit in the past.

FAITH: Lindsey's jumped that fence and landed on our side. Or, your side. Since you've been good a lot longer than I have. Actually, you haven't. [smirks] Seems like only yesterday you and Crazy Spice were trying to eat us for brunch.

ANGEL: Good thing you were there to protect my friends.

FAITH: Couldn'ta done it on my own. Can't forget about Lindsey and Kel.

ANGEL: No, I'd rather forget about her. As for Lindsey, he's lucky to have you. In my opinion, he doesn't even deserve you.

FAITH: Thanks "dad." Is this what's always gonna happen when I bring a new boy home? [Angel shudders, not noticing that Faith's tongue-in-cheek delivery means she's joking. Well, half-joking.] If anything, I don't deserve him.

ANGEL: Don't say that. You're a beautiful, powerful, heroic young woman with an incredible heart and, oh god, I really am sounding paternal.

FAITH: You finally noticed that. [she laughs]

ANGEL: So. [pauses to recover from Faith's insight] Off to Sunnydale.

FAITH: The baddies gunning after Buffy have started gunning after me. Figure there's safety in numbers.

ANGEL: How are you doing? You know, with the guilt, the pain, all that baggage we have in common.

FAITH: It's a lot easier to carry now that I'm out and helping people. Now I understand why you always gotta keep fighting.

ANGEL: For us, it never stops. It can't.

FAITH: Wouldn't it be nice if, just once, we could bond without it being a bummer?

They both laugh.

ANGEL: Take care, Faith.

FAITH: You too. Good luck with your kid. Put in a good word or two bout you. So did Lindsey. Maybe something stuck.

ANGEL: Lindsey talked to Connor about me? [looks alarmed] About Darla!?

FAITH: Angel, chill. It was all good. Connor wasn't freaked. He's heard of freakier love triangles. Hell, he's BEEN in freakier love triangles.

ANGEL: Thanks for reminding me. And also, thanks for talking to Connor, setting him straight.

FAITH: The first was sarcastic, the second was serious, right? [laughs] Later. Got a date with a Hellmouth.

She walks out of the office. Angel basks in the glow of a soul he helped redeem. Reminds him of what makes his arduous job rewarding. When Faith opens the door, Angel sees Lindsey. He thinks it would be rude to let his old nemesis leave without saying a word. Angel pops his head out into the lobby.

ANGEL: Lindsey. Can we talk? Just a moment.

LINDSEY: Sure. Be right back. [kisses Faith, walks into Angel's office]

ANGEL: So. You've changed.

LINDSEY: So have you.

ANGEL: No. Same old me. It's just everything around me that's changed.

LINDSEY: And everyone.

ANGEL: Especially that.

LINDSEY: When Darla went, and she took her life so Connor could be born, she was happy, wasn't she? Cause, I from what I knew about her I imagine that must have been the only truly happy moment of her whole life.

ANGEL: It was. She said Connor was the one could thing we ever did together. Get choked up just talking about it.

LINDSEY: Me too. And I wasn't even there.

ANGEL: I think it would be good to change the subject.

LINDSEY: Nothing worse than two guys crying together. Especially if they're old enemies.

ANGEL: So you're on the up-and-up. A do-gooder.

LINDSEY: I try to be.

ANGEL: And yet you're also rich. I know how hard it is to be both.

LINDSEY: One of the perks of a higher education.

ANGEL: I forgot. You have that law degree. Unlike Faith, who's, what, a high school dropout?

LINDSEY: What does that mean?

ANGEL: Nothing. I just didn't know she was your type.

LINDSEY: We've never pulled punches before. Tell me what you really think.

ANGEL: Faith thinks you're a decent guy. She seems to think you care about her. I just hope, for her sake, that you don't prove her wrong.

Lindsey hits Angel's left eye with a right hook. He looks furious, smoldering with anger, but still under control.

LINDSEY: How dare you.

Angel gets over his shock and outrage. He looks into Lindsey's eyes, trying to read his emotions.

ANGEL: You love her.

LINDSEY: And you're a slow learner.

ANGEL: Just testing. To be honest, I wasn't sure if you were over Darla.

LINDSEY: I am. Though it took me a lot longer than you.

Angel is tempted to slug Lindsey, but decides to take the high road. It doesn't occur to Angel that Lindsey's cheap shot told the truth.

ANGEL: I see we're already reverting to form.

LINDSEY: Old habits die hard.

Lindsey rejoins Faith in the lobby. Connor walks by, carrying several boxes. He drops them to say goodbye.

FAITH: You moving in?

CONNOR: Yeah. You heading out?

FAITH: Yeah.

CONNOR: Tell Dawn I miss her.

LINDSEY: I don't think that was ever in doubt. [Connor smiles]

CONNOR: Thanks for everything. Both of you.

FAITH: Just paying your dad back.

LINDSEY: In a good way. [Connor smiles again at Lindsey's joke. Angel feels a little jealous of Connor's affections for Lindsey] Maybe you can do the same.

Lindsey and Faith head out. As much as Angel wants Connor to like him, he would hate it if Connor liked him because his son trusts Lindsey. Especially when it's not clear if Connor trusts Angel. Connor picks up his boxes and continues moving in. Lorne goes over to talk to Angel.

LORNE: I drove him over to his old place to pick up his knick-knacks.

ANGEL: He asked you to help him?

LORNE: Asked isn't the word I'd use. It implies choice. When Connor pulls me out of bed and tells me to help him, I don't say no.

ANGEL: You're still scared of him? He's changed.

LORNE: I know that Connor's changed. But Connor's even scarier when he's nice. I asked him to sing a few bars at one point, just to be safe. The boy does have a history of playing possum. But he's the real McCoy. It's like someone's taken over his body.

ANGEL: Connor's always been a good kid. He just had to dig out from all that crap Holtz buried him under.

LORNE: Love does has a way of changing people.

ANGEL: Love? You mean Dawn? That's not the reason.

LORNE: That's the only reason.

ANGEL: Maybe it's one of the reasons. But it's bigger than that. Now that he's seen my dark side, Connor knows that I'm nothing like Angelus. He understands who I really am.

LORNE: Because now he sees clearly. Because of her. You of all people should know how much meeting the right girl can change a man's outlook on life. Sure Quemosabe, it would've been better if it was a different girl. But how often do things go the way you want them to?

Things are pretty mellow at the Summers house. But the tranquility is abruptly disturbed by an enormous roar that gets louder and louder. Dawn looks out the bay window. Leaves and dirt are blowing all around. Xander opens the door and is knocked backward by an enormous gust of wind.

DAWN: Close it!

BUFFY: Everyone get back!

Everyone moves away from the windows. Buffy goes for her weapons. In the basement, Spike wakes up and puts his hands over his ears in agony. It's like someone put a jackhammer to his eardrums.

SPIKE: What the bloody hell!

Spike runs upstairs. Willow looks out the window in the dining room.

WILLOW: Guys, it's okay. It's a helicopter.

Xander opens the door again. Giles stands next to him.

XANDER: Why is a helicopter landing on the street?

Buffy, Dawn, Spike and everyone else rushes into the hallway to get a look. The chopper touches down. Lindsey and Faith get out. Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles are dumbfounded.

XANDER: What the —

WILLOW: She said she'd be dropping by today.

BUFFY: I don't believe this.

MOLLY: Is that LIndsey?

ANYA: It is!

RONA: Who's that woman Lindsey's with?

BUFFY: I don't believe this.

SPIKE: Bloody show-off.

BUFFY: You can't just land a helicopter in the middle of the street. People could walk or drive into the spinny things. It's dangerous. Its selfish. Reckless.

XANDER: Same old Faith.

The rotors slow down as Faith and Lindsey walk up onto the porch. She's wearing jeans and a long-sleeve black t-shirt. He's wearing jeans, a white Oxford and sunglasses.

FAITH: Hey B. Long time no see.

BUFFY: Sorry if we forgot to put the helipad out today.

LINDSEY: It was the quickest way.

SPIKE: Shades on a cloudy day. Nursing a hangover?

Lindsey takes off the shades fora second to show the bruises.

LINDSEY: Had a few fights with a few vampires yesterday. Good thing I don't have to be in court for a week.

GILES: In court. For what sort of case, if I may ask?

LINDSEY: Capital murder.

ANYA: You're putting a guilty man to death? I used to do the same thing!

LINDSEY: Actually, I'm defending him.

SPIKE: Springing murderers free. How noble.

LINDSEY: My client's innocent.

ANYA: Of course he is. That's what he's paying you to say.

LINDSEY: He's paying me nothing. I took the case pro bono.

ANYA: Why on earth would you do that?

DAWN: So you are working to save an innocent man's life.

KENNEDY: How noble.

SPIKE: Oh, cum on!!

LINDSEY: So this is goodbye.

FAITH: Guess so.

They kiss for about twenty seconds. Neither's eager to let go, especially not Faith. Buffy's completely grossed out. The Potentials are sighing and swooning. Knowing that no one is in danger, Spike walks downstairs and goes back to sleep. He has no interest in standing around watching others be the center of attention. After the rotors start spinning again. Lindsey runs back to the helicopter and gets in. The chopper flies away. Faith walks into the living room and drops down her duffel bag. She looks at the assembled crowd.

FAITH: So you must be the Potential Slayers.

ROSE: Lindsey fought vampires with you?

FAITH: Side-by-side. He held his own.

MOLLY: That is so romantic.

AMANDA: And courageous. He risks his life, but he doesn't even have super powers. Lindsey is so brave.

XANDER: Hello!! Whadya think I've been doing since, like, forever?

FAITH: Hey Will. You've healed wicked fast.

WILLOW: Magic. [Willow and Kennedy look at each other and smile]

FAITH: Angel was the same way. Hmmn. I'm still on the mend.

She pulls up her shirt so they can see her bandaged stomach wound.

BUFFY: I had one of those once. Impaled with your own stake?

FAITH: Connor's. He feels real bad about it.

Dawn gives Faith a quick hug, stunning both Faith and Buffy.

DAWN: Thanks for, you know, saving his life. Connor told be about that.

FAITH: No sweat, Dawny. You really have grown. Are you taller than me?

DAWN: Of course, this doesn't mean I'm still not mad at you for, well, everything else you've done.

FAITH: Fair enough. Course, from what I hear, I've never been mean to you. We just think I have. Besides, people change. The Dawny Connor goes on and on about ain't nothin' like the one I knew.

DAWN: Connor's talked to you about me? [looks worried] What did he say?

FAITH: Relax kid. That boy practically worships the ground you walk on. Ya got him whipped something fierce. Men in that family seem to like it that way.

BUFFY: You and Connor are friends?

FAITH: We hung out with him. Me and Lindsey. Connor's cool. Like a kid brother or something.

Buffy wisely decides not to pursue this analogy.

AMANDA: Um, Faith, could you, ugh, tell us about what Lindsey's like.

ROSE: [smiles] Yeah. Could you?

ANDREW: Please. We'd really like to know more about him.

Faith looks at Andrew, not precisely sure who he is or why he's here.

FAITH: Maybe later. I should discuss business first. So B, what's up with the enemy?

BUFFY: We have those Reapers to deal with.

FAITH: Right. Swords and suits. I took out one. How many are left?

GILES: Nineteen. Or so we think.

FAITH: Oh. But hey, me and B have faced worse odds. Or, similarly long odds. But once we slice-and-dice,that's it, right?

DAWN: No. That's just the beginning.

FAITH: Damn. Always a catch in this town.

GILES: The Reapers are supposed to prepare the ground for what's to come.

WILLOW: The Big, Big Bad. We don't know what it is, yet.

ANYA: Basically, we know have no clue what's going to try to kill you. Sorry.

FAITH: So you're the blunt one. Guess the Scoobies found someone to take Cordelia's place.

Anya's more used to dishing it out than she is to taking it, so Faith's off-handed diss catches her by surprise.

GILES: In the meantime, we hope to isolate and kill as many Reapers as possible.

WILLOW: I'm going to —

DAWN: Ahem.

WILLOW: I mean, Dawny and I are going to perform a locator spell to find our enemies.

FAITH: Sounds like a plan. Means we got some time to kill. Guess I should go meet the newbies.

Faith goes into the front half of the living room where the Potentials are.

MOLLY: So what's Lindsey like?

Faith chuckles and looks at all the eager teenage girls hanging on her every word. Buffy, Willow, Anya, Xander, Giles and Dawn walk into the kitchen. As usual, Faith's made a good first impression at Buffy's expense. She needs to have a little pouting time.

BUFFY: Look at her. Playing "My Boyfriend is Hotter than Your Boyfriend." Well, he's not.

WILLOW: Buffy, you don't have a boyfriend.

BUFFY: I know. But if I did, he'd be hotter.

ANYA: Technically, wouldn't he be colder?


	2. Whatever It Takes

Spike chats with Faith. Buffy, Faith and the Potentials take the fight to the First. And Angel and Spike reluctantly join forces to do Buffy a big favor.

Spike can't get back to sleep, so he goes up into the kitchen and has a cup of blood. Andrew is washing the dishes. Giles is drinking a cup of tea.

SPIKE: Rupert, I heard about your social engagement with the new lady friend last night. So you waited until Angel had his soul back before you started dating again. Smart move.

Enraged, Giles grabs a wooden spoon in his right hand. A blood vessel pops up on his forehead. Spike calmy walks by him and towards the basement stairs.

SPIKE: I'm not the vampire you should be mad at, mate.

Lorne enters Angel's office. He sits at his desk, going over his books.

ANGEL: Hey Lorne. You look serious, Something wrong?

LORNE: Last week, I went to Sunnydale.

ANGEL: You did what? Why would you do go to the Hellmouth?

LORNE: Lindsey was performing at this place there called the Bronze. I decided to check him, and the town, out.

ANGEL: Yeah. I heard he went over real well.

LORNE: So did I. Sang a song or two before the singing lawyer went on.

ANGEL: You didn't know it wasn't a demon bar?

LORNE: I did. People ate me right up. Just like in Vegas, except without the production values. If you can sing, they don't care what you look like. Have you looked at Mick Jagger?

ANGEL: I suppose you have a point.

LORNE: Thanks, but that's not the point. I figured that a club in a town as demon-infested as Sunnydale would have some sort of protection spell. So I was shocked to learn the place was naked. Isn't that terrifying? A vampire gang shows up, Buffy's somewhere else for the night, and you have a bloodbath on your hands.

ANGEL: She always gets there in time to prevent disaster.

LORNE: Yes, but only because the hick demons in that Hellhole are complete morons. And I'm sure individual vampires go that club to feed all the time, taking a victim here and there.

ANGEL: You're not wrong.

LORNE: So you agree the place could use a protection spell?

ANGEL: A lot of places could.

LORNE: Now you're singin' my song, Angelpie. Anyway, I talked to Buffy and her gang of well-meaning amateurs. And Spike happened to insinuate that he knew the Furies. I decided to take a chance, pay the girls a visit, thinking maybe they'll do the job for him.

ANGEL: They wouldn't. Not for Spike.

LORNE: You're right.

ANGEL: I you want, I can talk to the ladies.

LORNE: See cupcake, the problem is, they won't do it for you, either.

ANGEL: What? That has to be a mistake. Do they think I'm still evil?

LORNE: They want both of you.

ANGEL: I won't. You told told them I won't. Didn't you?

LORNE: Of course.The ladies insisted it was all or nothing. I told them the answer was nothing. On top of the extreme hyper-ick factor, they were being greedy. Two for one? So, buddy, I figure, if there ain't a snowball's chance of this thing happening anyway, I might as well negotiate. See what they're willing to give.

ANGEL: What did you promise them? Please don't tell me –

LORNE: Nothing. Nothing at all. However, I feel obliged to tell you what transpired.

ANGEL: I really hate where this is going.

LORNE: Two for two. How bout that? Then I thought, what about one better. Since nothing was gonna happen anyway, why not? Cause, these ladies really seemed to want you two. [gulp] Together. I wanted to see how much they wanted you.

Angel stands up. He looks very aggravated.

ANGEL: Lorne, please don't tell me you made a deal. Please. I'm begging you.

LORNE: The Bronze. This hotel. Buffy's house. No human or demon violence.

Angel paces back-and-forth, his hands on his forehead. Finally, he looks at Lorne.

ANGEL: Buffy's house? No loopholes.

LORNE: Watertight. I'm sorry. I don't mean to impose. I just figured –

ANGEL: I know. If something happened, and I could've prevented it. I can't believe we're discussing this.

LORNE: Your call, chief. I told the Furies to expect nothing.

Angel agonizes for a few more seconds.

ANGEL: What time do they want me over there?

Faith walks down into the basement. Spike sits on the cot.

SPIKE: Some of us have to lurk in the darkness. What's your excuse?

FAITH: Came for the space. Prison was less crowded than this house.

They each pull out a cigarette. Spike lights up and tosses his lighter to Faith. She lights up and tosses it back.

FAITH: Why would a vampire smoke? You can't breathe. Well, you can. But you can't take anything in. Is it for the look?

SPIKE: You're the one keeping up appearances.

FAITH: What's that supposed to mean?

SPIKE: Acting like the good girl. Posing like you're still the bad girl. Make up your bloody mind.

FAITH: Thirty seconds, and you think you know me?

SPIKE: I know enough.

FAITH: You don't know jack about me. You're just talking about yourself. Used to wanna kill B. Now you're crashing in her basement.

SPIKE: I had a good 120 year run as Big Bad. But I know how to quit while I'm still ahead. Before I'm, say, in a coma.

FAITH: You really are full of it. From what I hear, B put you in a wheelchair.

SPIKE: Cheap shot. I'm walking away from her, my back turned, and she tosses something heavy into the back of my skull. Knocks me down. Which wouldn't have mattered if a bloody pipe organ hadn't fallen on top of me. What about you?

FAITH: She had a knife. I didn't. She stabbed me.

SPIKE: Fair enough. [thinks for a couple seconds] You see a pattern?

FAITH: Buffy wins cause she's the better cheater.

SPIKE: Spot on. You're right about one thing, Faith. I don't know you. But I hear you're the opposite of Buffy, least in terms of personality. Am I wrong?

FAITH: I'd like to think you're not.

SPIKE: Which makes you a bad girl who deep down wants the boring, safe things in life. Like having that blow-dried preppie tycoon carry you back to Tara where the two of you can sip mint juleps on the veranda and watch the little kiddies run off to the ole swimming hole or bayou or, whatever the bloody hell it is that's wet down there.

FAITH: Put a lotta thought into that, didya Spike?

SPIKE: Bollocks. Didn't your dear boy Angel tell you I never think before I speak? I leave that to the slow-witted.

FAITH: So if you think I'm the opposite of Buffy, that means you think she's what – a good girl who wants to be bad? Wonder where you get that from. [pauses] Oh. Right. That why she only nailed you when you were evil?

SPIKE: You don't know a bloody thing about us.

FAITH: Oooh. Touched a nerve. Hey, I'm on your side. I knew she had a wild side long before you did. Long before she'd admit it.

SPIKE: She tried boring. Didn't like it as much as you do.

FAITH: You slagging Angel?

SPIKE: Wusn't talking about him. Angel's too frustrating to be boring.

FAITH: You mean that other guy. The one I screwed.

SPIKE: You shagged Riley?

FAITH: Once. When I was in Buffy's body. Right after I met you. Wait a sec. Are you comparing LIndsey to G.I. Joe?

SPIKE: Hell no. If I insulted your precious beau's honor that badly, you'd have every right to stake me. Or, at least to TRY to stake me.

FAITH: Please. I could dust your punk ass in a second.

SPIKE: I'd drain you dry before you even got the chance. [playfully flicks some ash in her direction]

FAITH: Care to put that to the test, blondie?

SPIKE: Maybe when you're not on-the-mend. I don't much like meat that's already been tenderized.

FAITH: Fair enough. After all, it ain't as much fun to play with beasts while they're still locked in their cage. Thanks for the light.

Drops her cigarette butt on the floor, puts it out with the sole of her shoe and walks upstairs.

ANGEL: So what's on tap today? Any calls?

GUNN: No. Hope it stays that way for the next month.

FRED: Won't argue with that.

ANGEL: Come on guys. What's the matter? Aren't you glad we're back in business.

FRED: Tickled pink. And black-and-blue.

Angel sees the large bruise under her right eye, not to mention the bandage on her neck where he bit her. All that time in the Amazon dimension made him forget it was only yesterday that he beat the crap out of his friends.

ANGEL: Of course. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind.

GUNN: Maybe I'll be up for some demon-killing tomorrow. Long as the demons ain't to tough.

FRED: How bout baby demons? I could kill some of those.

ANGEL: So how come Wesley isn't here? Is he still trying to fly solo?

FRED: Not today.

ANGEL: Beg your pardon.

FRED: You didn't know?

ANGEL: Didn't know what?

GUNN: He's with Kelly.

ANGEL: Wesley's working with Kelly? [Gunn and Fred look at Angel as if he's stupid] Oh. [Angel looks a little distressed] Ohh. Wesley spent the night with Kelly? The two of them are . . . Kelly's with HIM?

FRED: Are you jealous?

Angel bursts out laughing.

ANGEL: Jealous? Of course not! Why would I be jealous?

GUNN: She is your type. Ain't that why you went after her so hard?

ANGEL: You think I'm attracted to Kelly because Angelus wanted to bite her? Angelus also wanted to bite Fred. That doesn't mean I'm attracted to you. Not that I don't find you attractive, Winifred. I just don't have feelings for you. No, I do. I love you. But as a friend, of course. Not in the way that Gunn does, or did, or, anyway, you get my point, right? What were we talking about again?

Being in front of both Fred and Gunn had made the whole scene doubly awkward.

FRED: Kelly.

ANGEL: Right. Kelly is not my type. I don't know why you would automatically assume that she is. [Gunn and Fred roll their eyes] She just didn't strike me as the type of woman who would go for Wesley.

Wesley sits up in bed. Kelly walks back into the room after taking a shower. She's wearing Wesley's bathrobe.

WES: Back to wearing clothes, I see.

KELLY: Just a brief relapse. I promise. [unties the robe as she walks towards the bed]

WES: I thought you had to leave.

KELLY: Don't hafta be back until 0700 tomorrow. You don't mind if I crash here tonight, do you? [smiles] I don't mean to impose.

WES: No need to apologize. I don't mind you being [she takes off the robe] imposing.

Wes takes a few seconds to catch his breath. Kelly gets back into bed and climbs on top of him. She puts her right hand to his forehead and then runs it through his hair.

KELLY: You feelin' okay?

WES: Sublime.

KELLY: I meant your wounds from yesterday. Normally a guy as banged up as yourself needs time to convalesce.

WES: True. But there are different ways of . . . convalescing. And I've found that when I'm hurt this badly, the worst thing to be is alone. [Wes smiles, touches her face with his right hand, runs it through her hair.]

KELLY: Is that why you took up with Lilah?

WES: Perhaps. But why I was with Lilah has nothing to do with why I'm here with you.

KELLY: Didn't mean it like that. It's just, ya always wonder bout the one who came before. Don't you?

WES: No. Not with you. That's not my concern. Honestly, I could care less.

KELLY: You don't find it a little unfair I know so much more about you that you do about me?

WES: I know all I need to know about you. It doesn't matter who came before me. [thinks for a second] So long as he wasn't a vampire, or a demon of some sort.

KELLY: Nope. Haven't crossed that frontier. And, honestly, I don't ever plan to. [laughs]

WES: Glad we're in agreement on that score. [pauses] So who was it?

KELLY: I knew you were curious.

WES: Only because you want me to be.

KELLY: You're getting quite good at catering to my wants. [smiles down at him] His name was Burak. Turkish special forces. About six months ago we worked together hunting down aquatic demons in Lake Van.

WES: Real wet work. Forgive the pun.

KELLY: Wet and wild and dangerous. And cold.

WES: I suppose that's one way to conserve body heat.

KELLY: It was more than that. Burak was a great guy. Brave. Ruggedly handsome. Dark, dry sense of humor. Still, I can't deny that fighting for our lives underwater in skin-tight wetsuits by day and huddling next to a fire in a wooden shack by night may have heightened the mood.

WES: I imagine it would. Do you still have the wetsuit?

KELLY: Why. Got any sea monsters round here?

WES: Not that I'm aware of. But there's no harm in making sure.

KELLY: You scuba?

WES: I've always wanted to learn. Always meaning since you brought it up. So what happened to Burak? Have the two of you kept in touch?

KELLY: A month after I left, he died fighting a pack of Heyashi demons in the Pontus.

WES: I've read about them. They can be quite ferocious, with their claws and giant poison tongue.

KELLY: He held them off long enough to save the rest of his platoon. Like I said, heroic. It didn't help that I jinxed him.

WES: What are you talking about?

KELLY: Most of the men I've slept with end up dead within six months.

WES: Demon-fighting is a dangerous occupation. And to be fair, my last girlfriend was also killed by a demon. And the one before her was nearly killed.

KELLY: Still, I probably should have told you before we –

WES: It wouldn't have made a difference. [kisses her]

KELLY: Because you like to live dangerously?

WES: No. Because you're worth the risk.

WILLOW: We found our bad guy.

DAWN: He's in the caves. In this cave. Probably about 300 feet in from the entrance. [hands Buffy a topographical map]

BUFFY: Sounds like he's afraid.

FAITH: He should be. Let's go get him.

BUFFY: And walk right into a trap? We have no idea how many of his friends are with him.

FAITH: From what Giles said, the longer we wait the more of these guys we'll have to face. The sooner we move, the easier it'll be.

BUFFY: Not if we're surrounded in a small, dark space with no chance of escape.

FAITH: That's why we hit 'em in the daytime. They won't see us coming.

GILES: Yes. But even with the element of surprise, the two of you could still be greatly outnumbered.

FAITH: Then we don't go alone. These girls can fight, can't they?

BUFFY: I don't know if they're ready for something like this.

KENNEDY: I think we are.

Buffy turns and sees that Kennedy has entered the dining room. The rest of the Potentials are still in the living room.

FAITH: That's perfect. [Faith smiles at Kennedy. Buffy doesn't like that she's moving in on her leadership position] The two of us, the ten of them, with Giles making sure the newbies don't get in over their head. I think we can do this. [she walks into the living room to get her weapons]

BUFFY: Now?

FAITH: Why waste time?

Buffy pokes Faith where her stab wound is. She flinches and grabs her stomach.

FAITH: I'm good to go. Long as you got my back. [pulls out the weapons she took from the Reaper she killed. The Potentials crowd around her, since Faith's the only one to kill a Reaper so far.]

BUFFY: Giles, you can't let them do this.

GILES: It's been three days, and they haven't made another attack. My guess is they're still waiting for the others to arrive.

BUFFY: And if they're not?

GILES: We'll be careful. And with you in charge, I'm sure we can deal with any eventuality.

BUFFY: Right. I'm in charge. For a moment there I wasn't sure.

About a half-hour later, Lorne calls for Spike.

SPIKE: They want what!!? No bloody way! You told them that. Good. So why are you calling? You dickered! No way in bloody hell I would I even consider it. Angel can protect his own bloody castle. No, I don't know why they think we're a package deal. No bloody clue. Goodbye Lorne. Hold on. Wut was that? The house. Demon and human. No tricks? Cuz if there are, you'll be scraping dead Furies off the ceiling. An airtight sanctuary spell. Okay. One moment. [Spike puts his right hand to his forehead and looks down at the floor, agonizing for a few seconds] What's the address?

Buffy, Faith and the rest are about to enter the cave.

BUFFY: Remember. Stay together. Not like last week when you broke ranks to chase down those Bringers. You remember what a close call that was. And these guys are a whole lot tougher than Bringers.

KENNEDY: We'll play it safe. I promise.

The other Potentials nod in agreement.

BUFFY: Giles, keep them in the rear, just in case you need to escape.

FAITH: Relax B. And keep it down so the bad guys don't hear us coming.

Buffy glares at the usurper Faith. Everyone quiets down and Buffy and Faith enter. The Potentials, arrayed in a circle with Giles in the center, follow at a distance of 100 feet. Enough light shines through the cave opening to allow them to see what's around them. No Reapers try to surprise them while they're on-the-move. Three hundred feet in, at the back of the cavern, Buffy spots one Reaper. He is sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, his face covered by his hat, as if taking a nap. Buffy and Faith slowly tiptoe towards him, Faith to Buffy's left. Buffy carries one long sword. Faith has the short but thick sword-and-dagger combination she took from the Reaper she killed. They get within six feet. Still he doesn't stir. Buffy hears something move thirty feet to her left. Shadows prevent her from seeing what's over there. But she sees a quick metal glint.

BUFFY: Faith! Duck!!

A Reaper standing along that wall tosses his hat with the sharp metal brim at Faith. Heeding Buffy's advice, she ducks in the nick of time. The hat sails on towards Buffy, who parries it away with her sword. Taking advantage of this diversion, the Reaper who was sitting against the wall suddenly stands up. He swings the sword in his right hand for Faith. She steps back and blocks the blow. Then he steps to his left and thrusts at Buffy with the dagger in his left hand. She backs up out of the way. He tries a right roundhouse. Buffy moves her head back out of the way. Faith comes at the Reaper from behind. But the Reaper to her left now charges at her back.

BUFFY: Faith. Watch out!

Buffy swings her sword at the Reaper who is between her and Faith. Faith turns and kicks the other attacker with a left reverse kick. As Giles and the Potentials watch this fight with concern, two more Reapers come at them from behind, cutting off their retreat. The girls stand shoulder-to-shoulder, swinging their swords and axes to keep the attackers at bay. Each Reaper has to deal with two or three Potentials. Giles stands right behind them, ax in hand, ready to offer assistance. One of the Reapers thrusts his dagger at Kennedy and his sword at Rose, who is to Kennedy's left. They both block the blows. Amanda, who stands to Rose's left, grabs a taser is her right hand and shocks the Reaper on his right elbow. The demon twitches and retreats six feet backwards. Giles heard the electric shock and naturally wonders what Amanda is using. (Tasers aren't part of Buffy's arsenal.) The startled Reaper takes a few seconds to recover. Then he waits a few more seconds, hoping a few of the girls will come out and attack him. They don't. Meanwhile, the other Reaper swings the sword in his right hand at Molly. She blocks it with her ax. He spins clockwise, thrusting his dagger at Rona, who stands to Molly's right. She blocks it with the short sword in her left hand. When the Reaper comes back around, he launches a right roundhouse kick at Molly's face. Rona hits his right calf with the mace in her right hand. Instinctively, Molly takes a step backwards from the foot flying towards her face. Now there is a gap in the circle to Rona's left and Chao-Ahn's right. Giles tries to step forward, but collides with Molly as she steps back. Rona tries to stab him with her sword. He blocks it with his dagger and raises his sword to behead her. Chao-Ahn swings her saber at the Reaper's right arm. He realizes that if he goes for the kill, chances are he'll fail and lose his arm. Using his excellent reflexes, the Reaper spins backwards and counter-clockwise, avoiding Chao-Ahn's blow. Molly steps forward and swings her ax, forcing the demon to take another step back. He decides to probe another part of the line, attacking Fadila and Ariella. The other Reaper goes after Izora and Madari.

Faith goes toe-to-toe with her adversary. They fight with identical weapons, and easily block each other's attacks. Faith gets knocked down by a quick left roundhouse kick. When the Reaper approaches and is about to swing his sword at her knees, Faith sweeps his legs out. Both of them stand up and resume fighting with their swords, which become entangled. The Reaper tries to overpower Faith and push her to the ground. Behind Faith, Buffy swings at her opponent. He blocks her sword with his dagger and slashes at her neck with his sword. Buffy ducks, spins around and sweeps out his legs. The Reaper quickly vaults back to his feet. Buffy gives him a straight right kick to the face. He staggers backwards, and Buffy closes in. Suddenly, the Reaper regains his balance and floors Buffy with a right roundhouse kick thrown too quick for Buffy to react. While she's on her back, the Reaper turns to his right. He takes off his hat and prepares to fling it at Faith's neck. Buffy vaults to her feet, immediately leaps at the Reaper and chops off his right hand an instant before he could release the deadly headgear. The other Reaper looks over Faith's shoulder and sees his comrade's amputated limb on the ground. Faith exploits this distraction to push him away from her. Buffy beheads her Reaper and runs over to Faith. Not wanting to take on two Slayers all by his lonesome, the Reaper turns to his left and makes a run for it. His two comrades abandon their fruitless attacks on the well-ordered Potentials and join him. Buffy and Faith pursue, but stop when they reach the Potentials. The swift-footed demons quickly reach the cave opening and disappear.

BUFFY: That was a disappointment.

FAITH: I know. We only got that one.

GILES: I think you should take note of the half of the glass which is full. Twice they've attacked us, and twice they've fled. We don't fear them anymore. And once a demon loses the ability to strike fear in his adversary's heart, he stands almost no chance of success. It's the same thing that happened to Spike.

SPIKE: I have to go out.

ANYA: Are you crazy?

SPIKE: Why? Because I think I have the right to come and go as I please? [opens the front door]

ANYA: No. Because it's the daytime.

Spike gets to the end of the porch and realizes Anya's right. He ducks back inside.

SPIKE: A few weeks in the sun, you start to take it for granted. [Spike grabs his blanket] Tell Buffy I had to go care of something very important. I'll be back later tonight.

ANYA: And what would this spur-of-the-moment mission be?

SPIKE: I can't go into it.

ANYA: Oh. You're playing secret agent. Can I play, too?

SPIKE: I'm serious. You'll thank me when I come back.

ANYA: You're goin' back to Scyra!

SPIKE: No I'm not.

ANYA: Liar.

SPIKE: I'm not leaving the dimension. I promise.

ANYA: Okay. I'll take you at your word and tell Buffy you ran off to an undisclosed location to do unidentified things for no known reason.

SPIKE: Tell her whatever you bloody well want. I don't care.

Spike puts the blanket over his head, runs out the door and dashes to his car parked on the street. He climbs in and races off. The windows are covered with foil and cardboard. Willow walks into the hallway and stands next to Anya.

WILLOW: Where's Spike going?

ANYA: He wouldn't say.

WILLOW: Back to Amazonia?

ANYA: I don't think so.

WILLOW: Why not? You don't think he'd chose a week as a god over three hours in the basement?

ANYA: He doesn't have the spell. I don't think he bothered to memorize it. Also, the portal's too small to drive his car through.

WILLOW: Then where's he going?

ANYA: You're usually not this curious about Spike's comings and doings. There's a reason for that, isn't there?

WILLOW: Good point.

It's five in the afternoon. Angel stands in the vestibule of a luxury high-rise apartment building. He anxiously checks his watch. Spike comes running inside, smoke coming off his blanket.

SPIKE: They wouldn't let me in the bloody parking garage. I had to run two blocks to get here.

Angel presses the button. On a camera in their apartment, the Furies can see both men in the vestibule. They push a button, and Angel and Spike enter the lobby and step into an elevator. Angel pushes the button for the 30th floor. The two vampires stand on opposite sites of the elevator car, not making eye contact. Angel wears black pants, a blue silk button-down shirt, and a long black leather coat. Spike wears black jeans and his red button-down shirt. Both of them would rather be anywhere but in this elevator with each other.

ANGEL: You know I'm only doing this for Buffy.

SPIKE: You mean you don't care if your friends and your first-born are safe?

ANGEL: You know what I meant.

SPIKE: Cuz I'd be more than happy to take your home off the menu. Giving my body to the people it's your job to look after. You owe me for this, mate.

ANGEL: Please don't use that word.

Spike shudders at his deeply unintentional entendre. Throughout the conversation, they look at the floor.

SPIKE: What's taking this elevator so bloody long?

They spend a few seconds in silence, then the elevator stops and the doors open. Spike and Angel walk out. When they get to the Furies' door, it magically opens. They make a left and enter a very large room. The ladies are levitating on the opposite side of the room.

FURIES: Hello Angel. Hello William. Mmmn . . .

Spike and Angel glance at one another like two men about to dive off a cliff into shallow, rocky waters. It will be the last time they'll look at each other for quite a while.

Faith, Andrew and the Potentials are in the living room watching the tape Andrew made of Lindsey's performance at the Bronze.

FAITH: You usually tape concerts?

ANDREW: No.

FAITH: You ever tape them?

ANDREW: This was my first. I think I did a good job of framing the performers and dealing with the lack of light.

FAITH: Why did you tape this one? [Faith worries Andrew has a crush on Lindsey]

ANDREW: I tape a lot of things.

MADARI: He's made tons of tapes of Buffy.

FAITH: What kinds of tapes? [this Andrew guy seems very strange, not to mention obsessive]

AMANDA: Fighting. And normal stuff around the house. He's taped all of us.

ANDREW: I'm trying to document our epic quest for posterity.

FAITH: Got nothing else to do. I hear ya. [laughs] Lindsey was right when he said I wouldn't like his music. Sure looks good in a cowboy hat, though. Had a feeling he would.

GILES: Spike didn't tell you where he was going.

ANYA: How many times do I have to say "He wouldn't say"?

BUFFY: And you just let him go?

ANYA: You think my post-demon self could stop him? He said it was about something that could help us.

XANDER: He helped us just by leaving the house. [Willow and Giles smirk]

GUNN: You know where Angel is, but you can't tell us?

LORNE: He's not in any danger.

CONNOR: How come you can know but we can't?

CORDY: Angel running off at night, not telling anyone where he's going – it's just not . . . no, it is like him. But not right now. He's been good for a day! It's way too early for a Blue Period relapse.

CONNOR: What's a blue period? (It's that nihilistic time in a vampire's life when he abandons his friends and spawns. But Cordy knows this is not the time for her brutal frankness.)

FRED: Yeah. What does that mean?

CONNOR: He shouldn't be going out alone.

GUNN: Angel can take care of himself.

CONNOR: No he can't. [half-smirk. Gunn sees the glint in Connor's eye and knows that Connor's referring to the time he dumped Angel into the ocean. There's still a bit of Angelus in the boy after all.]

FRED: Ah don't understand. What is Angel doin' that you can know about but we can't?

Eleven O'Clock. Spike and Angel stand in opposite corners of the room, putting their pants and shoes on. The Furies recline and levitate a few inches above three fainting couches, languorously smoking water pipes and sighing happily.

FURIES: Sanctuary granted.

Angel and Spike button up their shirts, then look at the three women.

ANGEL: Thanks for, um, keeping your end of the bargain.

SPIKE: Yeah. Thanks for not welching. Cheers, pets.

FURIES: You're welcome. Always. Mmmmmmn. [inhale. slowly exhale smoke up into the air. Then they turn their heads to face the vampires and smile. Angel and Spike sheepishly smile back. Angel hopes Buffy doesn't ever move to a new house. The Furies seem to want a return engagement.]

Angel and Spike leave the apartment. They both reach for the elevator button. When their fingers are a few inches apart, both men pull their hands back. After waiting for a few seconds, Angel reaches out and pushes the button. They have to wait a long time for the elevator to come up. They look at the carpet, facing in opposite directions. After what seems like an eternity, the elevator door opens. Both of them take a step to get in. Then they pull back. Angel walks in first. Then Spike. They lean against opposite walls. Halfway down, Angel decides to break the silence.

ANGEL: No one hears one word about this.

SPIKE: I'd rather be tortured than talk.

ANGEL: I can arrange that.

SPIKE: Looking at your face is torture enough.

ANGEL: I'm sick of you, too.

SPIKE: I feel like going another century without seeing you.

ANGEL: Make it two centuries.


	3. Unholy Sanctuary

Shortly after midnight, Spike opens the front door and enters the hallway. Buffy's there to meet him, and she looks angry.

BUFFY: Where the hell have you been?

Spike looks down at the floor and walks right by her. He steps into the living room and throws a right hook at Xander's face. A green barrier appears between his fist and Xander's nose, preventing the blow from landing. Xander looks upset. And startled. So does everyone else.

SPIKE: Someone try to hit Andrew.

Andrew looks outraged. Dawn tries to smack him in the back of the head. She can't.

SPIKE: Good. It works. No demon violence. No human violence. Anywhere in the house. Same goes at the Bronze.

WILLOW: Spike, how did you get a sanctuary spell?

SPIKE: You're welcome.

Spike walks up the stairs and heads into the bathroom.

BUFFY: What just happened?

WILLOW: We know what. What I wanna know is how.

Anya tries to slap Andrew, put can't.

ANDREW: Hey!!

GILES: I don't understand. No witch I know of can perform such a powerful protection spell.

WILLOW: To say nothing of maintaining it.

FAITH: Spike wasn't blowin' smoke? Nothing can hurt anything in here?

Faith tries to punch the bricks around the fireplace. She can't.

ANYA: Not even ourselves. How infantile.

WILLOW: What if someone tripped and fell down the stairs? Or, say, stuck their hand on a hot oven burner?

Xander stands up and bangs his shin against the coffee table.

XANDER: Oww. What the - ?

ANYA: That was an accident, right?

XANDER: No. I meant to bruise myself clutzily.

BUFFY: When Spike had the chip, he said it didn't hurt if he threw a punch but wasn't trying to hit anyone.

GILES: So intent matters.

KENNEDY: What about weapons?

Buffy grabs a sword and looks at Faith.

FAITH: Do I look like a guinea pig to ya, B?

XANDER: Where's Spike? We could stab him with impunity.

A little earlier, Angel came home.

CORDY: Where have you been? We were worried sick.

Angel tries to smack her with the back of his right hand. Cordelia looks stunned, not to mention emotionally hurt, until she realizes the blow didn't land.

ANGEL: Good. It works.

FRED: You got us a sanctuary spell? How did you pull that off?

CORDY: Oh no. You paid a visit to the floaty fairies.

ANGEL: Nothing can hurt you in here.

CONNOR: And we can't hurt each other?

GUNN: Does this one cover human violence?

FRED: Only one way to find out.

Neither of them wants to hit the other.

LORNE: Too bad Wesley's not here.

CORDY: I'm surprised no one else wants to hit me. I did make your last few months a living hell.

FRED: But that wasn't the real you.

CONNOR: Why would you want to hit Wesley? What did he do? [a hush descends over the lobby] What? What did I say?

FRED: Cordy, who are the floaty fairies?

CORDY: Do you remember those "Mmmn" ladies at Caritas?

CONNOR: Was this done by magic? We know how that always turns out.

CORDY: No Connor. Magic only backfires when amateurs like Lorne try to use it.

LORNE: My spell worked. You got your memories back, didn't you?

CORDY: And a lot of good that did.

LORNE: Low blow, missy. You can't hold me responsible for what those memories were.

GUNN: We should test. In case Wolfram & Hart send some more of those sorry-ass ninjas after us.

Fred sticks Connor in the chest with a taser. He jumps backwards and starts trembling. After a second or two he realizes he wasn't shocked.

CONNOR: That's not funny! You shouldn't do that to people.

FRED: Do what? I didn't do nothin'. That was the point.

CONNOR: Where did you get that?

GUNN: Where do ya think she got it?

CONNOR: That's not mine.

GILES: Amanda, I've been meaning to ask you something. This afternoon, as well as the other night, you used a certain hand-held device. One which I'm pretty sure was not a part of our arsenal.

AMANDA: You mean the taser?

GILES: Yes. Where did you get that from?

AMANDA: Dawn gave it to me.

GILES: Why did Dawn have a taser? Buffy, do you have any idea?

BUFFY: She kept it! I don't believe this.

GILES: I'm missing something here.

FAITH: You mean the taser Connor said he used on you?

GILES: When did Connor - ? Oh dear.

FAITH: That's probably the same one he used on Angel.

GILES: A weapon with a history. How delightful. [looks rather distressed]

XANDER: Look on the bright side. You'd feel a lot worse if that thing was still in Connor's hands.

BUFFY: I'd feel a lot better if it was out of my sight. Too many bad memories.

ANYA: Connor tried to murder you on the first night Dawn slept with him. Maybe she wanted to keep it as a souvenir. [looks worried] I hope she didn't use it on him.

Xander, Giles, Buffy and Willow look very ill.

FAITH: Doubt it. Not as much fun when the boy's unconscious. But she did use it on you, right B? Least that's what he said.

WILLOW: Dawny tasered you?

BUFFY: I'd rather not talk about it. Or any of this.

XANDER: Why would she do that?

BUFFY: Drop it. Okay?

GILES: I apologize for bringing this subject up in the first place.

Dawn comes down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. Everyone looks at her funny.

DAWN: What!? Why are you looking at me like that? Is Glory back? Because the last time you looked at me like that was when you found out she was after me.

Rona and Rose run into the kitchen.

RONA: Spike's still in the shower.

ROSE: He's been in there a half-hour. He's using up all the hot water.

DAWN: That's what I was gonna tell you about. I just talked to Connor —

BUFFY: I'd rather not hear about Connor in the shower.

DAWN: No, this is about Angel in the shower.

ANYA: I think that's much more to Buffy's liking. [Buffy gives Anya a withering glance]

DAWN: Connor said Angel was gone all night, and when he came home, no one could hurt anyone else inside the hotel. Angel refused to say how he did it, then spent an hour in the shower.

GILES: Yes. That does sound too suspicious for coincidence.

WILLOW: So what are we thinking?

XANDER: Obviously Angel and Spike both did something that made them feel dirty. [everyone gasps]

KENNEDY: Together?

FAITH: Aww no. I couldn't imagine them, ever, no. That's just whack.

KENNEDY: There was a lot of heat and tension between them.

FAITH: It's called a rivalry. There's always been a lotta tension between me and B. Do you think we would ever - ?

KENNEDY: Of course not. But I just, I got a sense about — [Buffy's glaring at her] it was probably just the clothes. I didn't mean to imply one of your ex-boyfriends was -

BUFFY: Thats a different ex-boyfriend.

Xander, Willow and Giles appear confused. After a few seconds, Willow and Xander realize what she's talking about.

WILLOW: Ohh. You mean Scott.

XANDER: Of course. Scott. I heard he was out a couple years back.

BUFFY: A couple years? Why am I always the last to know?

GILES: You're not. Who is Scott?

BUFFY: Short. Curly black hair. Dated him beginning of senior year.

FAITH: The muffin-turned-sleazebag who dumped you before the Homecoming Dance.

BUFFY: In fairness to Scott, I had already started seeing Angel again.

ANYA: Was he also a vampire?

FAITH: Course not.

BUFFY: Yes. I mean, no. Not back then.

XANDER: Buffy, what are you saying?

BUFFY: I'm saying I staked Scott last week.

FAITH: Damn girl. Ain't that ironic.

BUFFY: He was, he was, Scott was sired by Angel. At least that's what he said when I saw him the night after Angel was here.

Willow, Xander and Giles looked shocked. Everyone goes quiet.

DAWN: Buffy, I'm sure Angelus killed Scott only to hurt you. Not for, you know, any other reason.

ANYA: I know from my demon days that blood lust and carnal lust can have very little in common.

XANDER: After all, Spike sired Webs. That doesn't mean Spike's -

BUFFY: Of course not.

KENNEDY: Still, Scott was probably attracted to Angel.

WILLOW: How could he not be? [Xander and Buffy look at her]

WILLOW: Don't give me that look, Xander. Even you admitted he was a very attractive man.

GILES: We're losing focus. Can we please get back to figuring out what could have performed such a spell?

ANYA: We know it can't be a person. And I for one do not know of any demon who could do that. Or, for that matter, would even want to.

WILLOW: What's left? Gods?

ANYA: There are tons of creatures between demons and gods. All with different levels of power, different gradations of good and evil. And more than a few of them are willing to barter their powers.

Dawn is in the dining room, working on the computer.

DAWN: Cross-reference for Sanctuary Spells with Prostitution.

WILLOW: You think Spike and Angel slept with prostitutes?

DAWN: No. I think they were the prostitutes.

Everyone gasps. Buffy looks very angry.

FAITH: How do ya figure?

DAWN: In return for doing something they weren't proud of, they received something valuable. They sold their bodies to protect our bodies.

ANYA: That's far from unheard of. There's one group of demigods who are just on the tip of my tongue. Dammit, what's their name?

BUFFY: You guys are way off track. I'm sure it was NOTHING like that. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed in some of you. [Buffy looks at Dawn. She expects these sort of sick imaginings from Anya, but not from her kid sister.]

DAWN: Got it!

GILES: Got what?

DAWN: I think I found them. There they are. Whoa.

XANDER: Whoa what?

GILES: Good heavens. [takes off his glasses and cleans them]

XANDER: Let me see. [his jaw drops]

GILES: The Transuding Furies.

ANYA: Yes! Those are the lighter-than-air bimbos I was thinking of.

DAWN: It says they specialize in sanctuary spells. In fact, it says that's all they do.

KENNEDY: What are they?

ANYA: A lower class of demigods. Immortals. The real kind that can't be killed. I know, because I wanted to curse a guy who took refuge in a temple they had protected. Boy, were those man-guarding tramps frustrating to negotiate with.

WILLOW: Why would demigods have a website?

DAWN: I think it's like a, I dunno, a fan site? Something put up by admirers. Or obsessive stalker-types.

ANYA: There's a difference?

DAWN: People exchange information about them and try to pinpoint their location. It seems they move around. Look at this. A few postings swear they have a place in Los Angeles.

Willow and Kennedy get a look at the three ladies.

BUFFY: What is it? Let me see.

WILLOW: Buffy. Wait. It may not be what we think.

She gets passed Willow, Kennedy, Giles and Xander and takes a good look. Then she turns around and walks through the kitchen and out the back door. Willow goes after her.

FAITH: Three girls, two guys. So it's not like Angel and Spike had to share.

KENNEDY: Or even be in the same room at the same time.

ANYA: I'm sure Buffy will take some small comfort in the fact that there was nothing homoerotic about her boyfriends' orgy.

XANDER: I still don't understand how this works. Angel and Spike get it on with the Furies. Angel and Spike get protection spells. What do the Furies get out of the deal?

ANYA: The barter system can be highly subjective.

GILES: I think Spike's presence proved that. Did he say the Bronze was also protected?

ANYA: It's Lorne!

FAITH: You think he was in on the orgy? [Faith shudders]

ANYA: He said the Bronze should have a protection spell. And he implied that he knew people who could make it happen.

DAWN: Does that make him the pimp?

ANYA: Technically, yes.

FAITH: He's sure dressed for the part.

DAWN: It says here the Furies are very selective, and won't touch humans. Supposedly they need demons who are "equipped" to satisfy them. [everyone cringes] They use that word a lot. It lists some demons who are thought to fit the bill.

ANYA: Let me see list. Yes. Yes. Oh yes. Overrated. Vastly overrated. Inconsistent. Yes. Big yes. What's that one doing there? Okay, these next couple were WAY too kinky for my tastes. These Furies are more depraved than I imagined.

DAWN: It says that as a rule they don't like vampires. I guess they made an exception this time.

GILES: More than one. It seems like it's supposed to be a one-for-one trade. But this time they protected three places.

DAWN: In exchange for only two tricks.

ANYA: They must really like Angel and Spike.

Willow and Buffy are in the backyard.

WILLOW: Buffy. You're probably right about this not being what it looks like.

BUFFY: How would you feel, if Kennedy -

WILLOW: With them? [Willow ponders this a few seconds] I would be jealous, and upset, but understanding. If it helped saved lives. Would you rather none of this happened and those Reapers could burst into this house any time they wanted?

BUFFY: But why Angel? He doesn't live here. He can protect his own, much larger, much more durable house.

WILLOW: I'm sure there was a good reason. It's not like he did it for fun. You heard what Dawn said. Angel didn't act like someone who had enjoyed himself.

BUFFY: It's not that I want a normal, uncomplicated guy. I know I can't have that. But could they just be a little less weird? Angel's two-and-half-centuries old, and dead, and cursed. Isn't that enough? Does he have to go and have a son with a vampire who tried to kill me?

WILLOW: It's a little much. We all know that. I've had my share of bad luck in the romance department. Nothing like what you've had to endure.

BUFFY: I'm not too sure about that.

WILLOW: Let's not get started with another masochistic tango of dueling heartache. You have a lot of people who would do anything to help you. Some of those things you wish they hadn't done. But love makes you do the wacky. Or, in this case, the possibly perverted. Just ask yourself if you think they would have done it for nothing. That answer's all you need to know.

BUFFY: You ever think that if there is a God, he's got a really sick sense of humor?

WILLOW: All the time. But whadya mean he?

BUFFY: Don't you think a woman would have made this world a little different?

WILLOW: I'm not saying She controls everything all the time.

Willow and Buffy walk back into the kitchen, where they are joined by Dawn, Giles, Xander, Faith and Kennedy. Spike comes down the stairs and walks into the kitchen on his way to the basement. He hasn't combed his hair, so it's a little frizzy, with a few stray curls hanging down over his forehead. Everyone stares at him.

DAWN: Your skin's a little red.

KENNEDY: Looks like you scrubbed too hard.

ANYA: Did you get the scent of Furies out of your pores?

SPIKE: Who told? Did Angel tell?

DAWN: I looked it up.

SPIKE: Shouldn't you people be researching the First, or something else that's trying to kill us?

ANYA: Were they your first Demigods?

Spike looks at Buffy and feels ashamed. He hangs his head, then looks at her with big, sorrowful eyes.

SPIKE: I didn't enjoy it. I only did it for you. I swear. I could have passed on the offer. But then, if something came in here, and killed one of the girls, and you found out I could have prevented it, wouldn't you have been even more pissed at me than you are right now? I did what I did with them because I love you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going out to get a drink. Trust me, I need one.

Spike goes out the back door. It takes a little while for them to make sense of what he said.

WILLOW: Buffy, I'm sure Angel felt the exact same way.

KENNEDY: They engaged in an orgy because they loved you? Men.

ANYA: And to think, there was a time when Faith wanted to switch places with YOU. (Right now, Anya suspects Buffy would want to switch places with Faith so she could get some hot Lindsey lovin.')

Spike made his way to the bar. When he was two blocks away, he heard a vaguely familiar voice emanating from an alley perpendicular to the street his was on. Cecil was walking towards Spike, singing an Elvis Costello song he liked:

"And it's the force of habit.

If it moves then you fuck it,

if it doesn't move you stab it.

And I thought I heard The Working Man's Blues.'

He went out to work that night and wasted his breath.

Outside there was a public execution.

Inside he died a thousand deaths.

And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground,

Yeah they pulled him out of the cold cold ground,

Well they pulled him out of the cold cold ground,"

Spike turned to his left, grabbed Cecil's Flipper t-shirt with his left hand and slammed him into the wall. Cecil was bumpy. Spike pulled back his right hand, ready to stake Cecil.

CECIL: Spike! My man Spike. It's me, Cecil. Put the lumber down, buddy. [he returns to his human face] I mean, we're on the same side, man.

SPIKE: Haven't you heard? I've changed.

CECIL: You mean the soul. I heard about that when I was working for Angelus in LA.

SPIKE: You worked for HIM?

CECIL: Me and Edgar, during the blackout. Our usual scams, but on a much grander scale. We gouged all the vamps in LA, then we robbed Angelus blind. Cleaned him out! He's a real sucker for sycophancy.

SPIKE: I've noticed. What are you doing here?

CECIL: I known, I usually don't like to work a Slayer's town.

SPIKE: To say nothing of a town with two Slayers.

CECIL: Faith's here! Have you nailed her yet? [Spike grabs Cecil's throat and shoves him back into the wall. Cecil wheezes when he tries to speak] Chill. I'm kidding. [Spike lets go] You lose your sense of humor when they gave you a soul? Every Slayer you've met, you've either killed or screwed. I just wanted to know what it was gonna be with Faithy.

SPIKE: So why are you here? Sunnydale seems a little down market for you.

CECIL: Not this week. Demons are leaving here like it's the end of the world. They're getting as far away from the Hellmouth as fast as possible. And nothing beats profiting off the desperate. These demons need cash and wheels — fast. Most of them have been here their whole lives. That's centuries for some. They got magic crystals, charmed jewels, gold doubloons. Nothing you could use for legal tender. I give them cash for their valuables at 25 cents on the dollar, then sell them off in the ancillary markets for triple what I paid. When I get done here, I'll finally be able to afford that place on the Riviera I've always dreamed of. Monte Carlo. Cannes. I'll be able to live like a king off the ill-gotten fat of the land. Then I can afford my own jet. No windows. I can go anywhere in the world I want within hours. And NOBODY will be able to touch me, cause I'll be able to buy protection like you wouldn't believe.

SPIKE: All of which will come to naught if I stake you right here in this alley.

Cecil holds out his hands.

CECIL: Wait wait wait! What has gotten into you?

SPIKE: A soul.

CECIL: Besides that. Killing me doesn't help you. And it doesn't help your precious Buffy.

SPIKE: Doesn't hurt.

CECIL: You want money? I got money. Here's a thousand.

Cecil reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a big wad of twenties and tosses them to Spike.

SPIKE: This isn't a thousand. You're a bloody liar. [he flips through it and sees that it probably is] I don't want your money. 

Spike tosses it back before he gets tempted.

CECIL: I bet Buffy can use it. What are Slayer wages these days? Probably below the poverty level.

SPIKE: She has bigger things to worry about.

CECIL: You want me to betray some vamps? I'm more than willing.

SPIKE: Right now, vampires are the least of her concerns. You know anything about Reapers?

CECIL: The machine?

SPIKE: The demon.

CECIL: Doesn't ring a bell.

SPIKE: Dark suits. Dark hats. Big swords.

CECIL: And they're here?

SPIKE: In force. More than a dozen, from what I've heard.

CECIL: Do they work for the First Evil?

SPIKE: So you've heard of the First.

CECIL: Who hasn't? This is why I'm on you side. We're both pro-existence. Neither of us wants the world to end.

SPIKE: And if you don't want your world to end, meet me here tomorrow at nine. That's when you'll tell me where they are.

CECIL: A little tracking. Cool. I can swing that. These Reaper guys sound rather conspicuous. Hell, cause you're an old friend, I'll do it for free.

SPIKE: You'll do it for your life.

CECIL: And my girl's.

SPIKE: Another stripper? Cecil, when will you learn?

CECIL: I have learned.

SPIKE: So what did you sire this time?

CECIL: Nothing. She was already a vampire. Came from right here in Sunnydale, actually. Left town the night she was sired.

SPIKE: Smart girl.

CECIL: And wild. The things she does to me in an El Dorado convertible.

SPIKE: Glad you're happy. Just keep a low profile. Where are you living?

CECIL: You know that Georgian mansion on Caldwell?

SPIKE: The one on the hill with the hedges? How did you land that?

CECIL: I'm renting.

SPIKE: You paid?

CECIL: Can't keep a low profile for very long if you kill the owner of every pied-e-terre you live in.

SPIKE: Sounds like we have an understanding.

CECIL: Tomorrow night, I'll give you the intell on the apocalyptic demons. And don't worry. Me and my girl only hunt out-of-town. I don't know why more vampires don't that. Best as I can tell, Buffy only slays within a six mile-radius. Vamp flight should have taken place years ago.

SPIKE: It hasn't because they're bloody idiots. You, on the other hand, are about to outsmart yourself into a staking.

CECIL: I forgot that you have that whole urge to protect the innocent, even the ones you don't know. Are do you? Because most people with a soul don't. And what's a few innocent lives when you're fighting to save the world?

Spike hurls him into the opposite wall and prepares to stake Cecil.

CECIL: You want those Reapers or not?

SPIKE: I don't need you to find them.

CECIL: Because you can do the scouting yourself. Liar! By now, I'm betting all the demons and vamps in this town got your number. To them, you're a mortal enemy. To them, I'm nothing. Just some harmless, anonymous loser vampire. That's why I never lose. By the time my enemy knows I'm fighting them, it's all over.

NEXT: Rupert's new girlfriend realizes that Faith tried to kill her brother. Wesley considers merging his agerncy with Angel's. And Angel and the gang want to find out why the Powers used and hurt Cordy.


	4. Starting Over

Giles becomes a local celebrity. But his girlfriend has a problem with the new Slayer. Angel tries to coexist with Xander. Buffy thinks Faith coexists a little too well with Dawn's friends. And Angel does his best to cheer up Cordy.

It's 7 am, Monday morning. The gang is in Buffy's kitchen, eating breakfast. The Potentials eat standing up around the island. Andrew's cooking omelettes. Buffy, Xander, Anya, Dawn, Giles and a groggy Faith sit at the kitchen table. All of them are dressed, except for Anya, who's in her bathrobe. Buffy scans that morning's Sunnydale Times, looking for possible monster attacks. As befits that town, The society page is next to the obituaries.

DAWN: How do you feel about working with Angel?

XANDER: He's not working with me. Not if he wants his house to not fall down.

DAWN: But you'll be around him all day. And you'll have power tools.

ANYA: If he insults you, you could give him a nasty sanding. Or amputate his limbs with a circular saw. So much for the customer always being right.

XANDER: Vampires are nocturnal. I'll only be there in the daytime. Hopefully we won't cross paths.

DAWN: But you may see Connor.

ANYA: Or Cordelia.

XANDER: They're not paying me enough for that.

GILES: I thought you charged them $20,000?

XANDER: You're right. They are paying me enough.

BUFFY: Where did Angel get that kind of money?

XANDER: It's Cordelia's money. Demon tribute, from when she was all-powerful.

ANYA: You're laundering demon money? Even I never sunk that low.

XANDER: There's no laundering. I'm keeping the money. I mean, I'm giving most of it to my crew, and they're keeping it too.

BUFFY: Oh my God!!

XANDER: What's, Buffy?

BUFFY: I don't believe this!

FAITH: Figured by now you'd seen it all.

BUFFY: Not this. Giles, you're in the paper!

FAITH: No.

GILES: Did they spell my name right? Is there a picture? Is it a good picture?

XANDER: Why would Giles be in the news?

BUFFY: Because he went on a date.

FAITH: That is news.

ANYA: What kind of banner headline will they run when he has sex?

BUFFY: "Mayor Estella Santos was spotted Saturday at Benucci's with raffish Brit Rupert Giles."

GILES: [smiles] I'm raffish?

FAITH: Did you say mayor? [Faith goes quiet, sinks into her chair and looses her appetite.]

BUFFY: "Mister Giles, currently unemployed, is the former Head Librarian at Sunnydale High School."

Giles looks wounded.

GILES: Well that was just catty.

ANYA: And completely accurate.

XANDER: G-man has a job. It's just a secret job.

GILES: Thank you, and please don't ever call me that again.

FAITH: I'm sorry, did you say mayor?

Buffy, Giles and Xander realize how awkward this could be. Of course, Anya doesn't.

ANYA: She's not evil like the Mayor you supported. In fact, I think Giles said something about her family having a century-long blood feud with him.

GILES: Faith, I understand if this is uncomfortable for you. Estella is a wonderful woman, and I'm sure she won't hold any animus towards you.

FAITH: Please. I'm totally five by five. We're all sleeping with someone's old enemy.

GILES: I suppose with us that is more than merely a saying.

XANDER: Scary, but true.

GILES: But I'm not sleeping with Stella. We only met three days ago.

BUFFY: Counting the days. Sure sign you're falling for her.

GILES: Do I gossip about your relationships?

BUFFY: No. [looks nauseous] Thank God.

ANYA: We're just preparing you for the inevitable media onslaught.

GILES: Don't be ridiculous.

ANYA: She is a public figure.

DAWN: Almost a local celebrity.

XANDER: Before long you'll be fending off the paparazzi.

ANYA: This is the Hellmouth. Couldn't we let the vampires eat the paparazzi?

A few minutes later, the gang heads out. Xander leaves for Los Angeles. Anya finds herself spending the morning alone with Andrew. She'll be so happy when Spike wakes up. Everyone else goes to school. Buffy and Faith are walking towards the front door.

FAITH: Huge. Cold. Bland. Reminds me of the slammer. Do they have an exercise yard?

BUFFY: Just a basement filled with ghosts. Did your prison have that?

FAITH: I wish. [pauses] Are we getting along?

BUFFY: No. I'm pretty sure we're just faking.

FAITH: Good. So explain to me again what's up with this.

BUFFY: We train here.

FAITH: Since when?

BUFFY: Friday. Giles thought it would do the girls some good to get out and about. Plus, back then the house wasn't safer than anywhere else.

FAITH: Now that's changed. Shouldn't Giles want to keep the girls under wraps?

BUFFY: The First doesn't do public attacks in broad daylight. And put yourself in the Potentials' place.

FAITH: Good point. I would have also hated being trapped for months in a house with you.

BUFFY: See! There's that good old-fashion animus bubbling up to the surface.

FAITH: Nice to know I haven't lost my touch. What does the school think of this? What do the other kids think?

BUFFY: Giles knows some administrator. The same guy who got him the librarian job. Most of the students haven't noticed. Just like when we used to train at school.

FAITH: But this time you've come back in force, B. With a whole team of Slayers.

BUFFY: A couple months ago, the Hellmouth made everyone in school go insane.

FAITH: Kids round here must be used to the weirdness. Or, you're just not the head-turning type. We'll see how big a splash I make.

At ten in the morning, Angel is awoken by the loud clamor of construction. He meets Lorne in the third floor hallway. Angel's wearing black slacks and a gray v-neck long-sleeve t-shirt. Lorne is in pink slippers and an aqua bathrobe.

LORNE: And I thought destroying this place made a racket.

ANGEL: You can't sleep either?

LORNE: Not even on the fifth floor, with earplugs. This must be toughest on you, chief, on account of your hearing aides being permanently set at eleven.

ANGEL: The pounding I can block out. It's the high-frequency noise from the saws that drives me crazy. I'm sure it also drives away customers. How can I get my business back on its feet with all this going on?

LORNE: The others are trying to figure it out downstairs. They found a reasonably quiet cubby hole in the basement with a phone jack. If it's okay with you, I'm thinkin' of slipping back into my own hole-in-the-wall on Melrose. At least until the day laborers head out. I'm not much for construction workers who aren't dancing with indian chiefs.

ANGEL: Go ahead. We're more of a five-to-nine business anyway.

With the stairs under repair, Angel takes the elevator down to the lobby. The first thing his sees is Xander cutting wooden boards with a circular saw. Xander doesn't notice until he's finished cutting, turns off his circular saw and pulls back his goggles. For Angel, the noise is literally deafening.

XANDER: Angel! You here to check out our work!?

ANGEL: No! Just passing through!

He looks around and walks along the back of the lobby. Xander instructs some of his crew. Angel grabs his left arm and turns Xander around.

ANGEL: Why are the columns wood!

XANDER: What!

ANGEL: Why are the columns wooden!

Xander laughs. He thinks Angel's joking. After a few seconds he realizes the naive client is serious.

XANDER: These are just the molds!

ANGEL: The what!

XANDER: The molds!! We don't start pouring until Wednesday!

ANGEL: Oh. Why so late?

He suspects Xander the contractor of dragging this out to pad his bill. Xander condescendingly puts his left arm around Angel's shoulders and walks him away from the din of the workmen.

XANDER: How many indoor two-story art deco columns have you poured?

ANGEL: How many have you poured?

XANDER: That's not the issue. You focus that pretty undead head of yours on demon-killing and damsel-saving and all the other things you're so good at. Leave the rebuilding to me. Kapish?

Boy, was Xander asking for it. But Angel would prefer his lobby in its original condition. Still, there was Angel's galling problem of Xander (of all people!) trying to out alpha-male him. He couldn't let that stand. So Angel went bumpy and quickly turned his head to the right, so he is looking Xander in the eyes. Xander removes his left hand from Angel's shoulder and jumps six feet back. Watching Xander catch his breath, Angel know he had made his point. His face returns to human form. Xander quickly regains his composure.

XANDER: I'm glad you see my point.

Xander turns around and goes back to work. Angel walks downstairs and follows his friends' voices to the room where they have set up shop. It was noticeably quieter than the upper floors.

ANGEL: The concrete floor really muffles the noise.

FRED: Hey Angel.

ANGEL: Any calls?

GUNN: Nope. Too early.

ANGEL: Glad to know I didn't miss anything.

WES: Suppose someone did call. From here, we'd hardly be able to do anything. No books. No internet connection. I can't see why we shouldn't repair to my offices for the week. Lillian would welcome the company.

ANGEL: But if we went to your office and used your secretary to handle our business, wouldn't that give the appearance that we were working for you?

WES: Perhaps. That is, if you are more worried about appearances than efficiency.

GUNN: If you still got your own crew, what are you doing over here? Lending a hand in your spare time?

WES: I was going to suggest a merger of our two agencies. It does seem rather wasteful for us to compete rather than joining forces and combining our resources.

ANGEL: You don't expect me to agree to a merger of equals? I agree that that it's immature for us to poach clients from each other and not work together. But there's no way I'm letting you own as much as the rest of us combined.

WES: Which is why I'm proposing no such thing. I plan to sell my agency to Clifford and Lillian and bring the more difficult and lucrative clients — the ones Cliff can't handle — over here. All I'm asking for is a quarter share, the same as the rest of you.

FRED: I have a share? No one ever told me I have a share.

GUNN: Who does own Angel Investigations?

ANGEL: I do!

GUNN: Not after you ditched us.

WES: And when you returned, you agreed that the four of us were equal partners.

FRED: Ya'al need to fill me in on what happened here before we met.

GUNN: So Angel and me owned the business after you and Cordy left for . . . personal reasons.

ANGEL: Where is Cordy?

FRED: I ran this place all summer. I kept us one step ahead of eviction. Shouldn't I get a piece?

WES: I think you should.

Fred looks at Gunn.

GUNN: Damn straight. I thought Angel had made you a partner a long time ago.

FRED: Angel?

ANGEL: Okay. And if Cordelia wants in, she gets one too. Even though it's my name on the letterhead.

GUNN: What do you need the extra green for?

ANGEL: To each according to his needs? What country are we in, again?

WES: You pay no taxes. Your housing is paid for by the company. The only expenses you have are for blood and clothing.

FRED: And pig's blood's like half the cost of milk. No wonder you can afford such nice designer knock-offs.

ANGEL: Excuse me? Did you say knock-offs? You take that back right now.

GUNN: Were you like this before Cordy?

ANGEL: Where is she? And where's my son?

FRED: Connor didn't like the noise. He went to the library.

ANGEL: What library?

GUNN: The one you liked to break into for research even though we got a computer right here.

ANGEL: They have a T-1 connection. And I get more done using two machines at once. You're telling me Connor is reading?

FRED: You didn't know he was literate?

ANGEL: I knew my son could read. I didn't know he liked doing it. What does he read?

FRED: Couple days ago he asked me somethin' bout existentialism.

Angel smiles and his eyes light up.

ANGEL: Chip off the old block.

GUNN: Please don't be havin' a moment.

ANGEL: You have a problem with me feeling proud of my own son?

FRED: We have a problem with you tempting fate to make you its bitch. Every time you have one of these moments of mini-happiness, something bad happens. Angel, you have to be careful. You have zero-sum karma.

WES: You believe the Curse has become atomized?

FRED: Don't you think there are gradients?

WES: It may appear to be that way. But you're mixing concepts. Gypsy curses have nothing to do with karma.

FRED: Why not? Aren't the Gypsies from India?

WES: Interesting point. It could be an atavistic holdover.

ANGEL: Can you not talk about be like a test subject when I'm standing five feet away?

Fred puts her right hand on Angel's left shoulder.

FRED: I'm sorry, Angel. We're just tryin' to help ya.

GUNN: No you ain't. You're taking my simple advice and making it wordy and pointless.

FRED: Maybe we were getting a little post-structuralist for a moment there.

GUNN: That's the sorta wack-ass wordplay I was talking about.

Faith and Buffy stand against the wall, just inside the entrance of the high school commons, where the Potentials and about two hundred students are eating lunch.

FAITH: Don't they seem smaller?

BUFFY: Younger maybe. It's not like I've grown.

FAITH: I haven't. But they still seem smaller than when I was their age.

BUFFY: It is strange being on the other side.

FAITH: Did the guys stare at us this much back then?

BUFFY: You just didn't notice. I didn't either. Until that day I heard their thoughts.

FAITH: Say what?

BUFFY: Killed a telepathic demon. Got its power. Went insane. Wouldn't recommend it.

FAITH: [laughs. shakes her head.] I can't get over how the girls all have their own little mini-Xanders.

BUFFY: Faith, those are their boyfriends.

FAITH: You mean boy toys.

BUFFY: They don't think like you did.

FAITH: Hell no they don't. They're with them the morning after. And they weren't with them the night before. But they're still playthings. Just like Xander was. Or coulda been, in your case. Don't tell me if those girls went solo those guys wouldn't be tagging along after them on grave patrol.

BUFFY: Are you saying that you think those boys only like them because they kill things?

FAITH: It doesn't hurt. Ya know, I bet this is why there's all this Slayer secret identity crap. Just an excuse to keep us from dating.

BUFFY: I always thought there was a lot more to it than that.

FAITH: Maybe. I probably ditched the day they explained it all. [Faith spots Dawn at a table with four other people] Well lookie there. Dawny's got friends. And more than one to boot. Things really have changed.

BUFFY: Kit and Carlos. Plus their honeys. First day of school, Dawny and those two were attacked by dead people.

FAITH: [grins] So she finally got her own little Scrappy Gang. What about the other two. What's their story?

BUFFY: No story. I'm pretty sure Denise and Elijah haven't been attacked by anything demon-y.

FAITH: Of course! That's Eli. Connor told me about him.

BUFFY: He did? There's not much to tell.

FAITH: Not according to Connor. He made it sound like Eli's his best friend.

BUFFY: That would make Eli his only friend.

Elijah and Kit ask Dawn who's standing next to Buffy. They decide to walk over and meet the new Slayer. Carlos demurs. He doesn't want Denise to think he has a thing for Slayers.

FAITH: Here come the Scrappies.

ELIJAH: Hey Buffy.

KIT: Yeah. Hi.

Now that they've avoided being rude by acknowledging Buffy's presence, they look at Faith and more-or-less forget Buffy's even there.

ELIJAH: So you're Faith. Connor told me about you. Called you the cool Slayer. [Buffy does not look amused]

FAITH: That sounds like him.

KIT: So Lindsey's back in Tupelo?

FAITH: Since yesterday.

ELIJAH: When does the trial start?

FAITH: Next week, I think.

KIT: I did a Lexis search and found a couple articles on it. Looks like a pretty tough case.

FAITH: He says those are the only ones worth taking.

Kit sighs. Elijah smiles. Buffy can't believe Faith and these two kids she's never met are chatting like old friends.

ELIJAH: Whatta guy.

KIT: Are all of you like that?

FAITH: Like what?

KIT: You know. Like Buffy. Seems everyone she knows is some kind of hero. Except, you know, us two.

Buffy appreciates the compliment. Kit could sense that Buffy was feeling slighted.

ELIJAH: And I'd like to keep it that way. [takes his girlfriend's hand, looks at her and smiles]

While the girls were in the cafeteria, Giles and Estella went out for a quick bite to eat. Afterwards, they walk back into the the makeshift training room.

ESTELLA: I'm sorry about that article.

GILES: Perils of celebrity, I suppose.

ESTELLA: You're a celebrity?

GILES: [chuckles] The last time I checked, you were the only glamorous public figure in this room.

ESTELLA: You can tone down the self-deprecating charm. I already like you, Rupert. You're not the first man I've gone out with since becoming mayor. But you are the first whose name the local paper saw fit to print.

GILES: How many other men?

ESTELLA: Three. Two of them only once. The other for three months. How many women have you dated in the last three years?

GILES: In Sunnydale? Only you.

ESTELLA: Guess you save your swinging ways for London.

GILES: Around here, I can only meet people through my work.

ESTELLA: I know how hard that can be. You mostly meet demons. I mostly meet politicians.

GILES: And based on my personal observations, most people would view the demons as better prospects.

ESTELLA: Sad but true. That was a joke, right?

GILES: I suppose one could see it as humorous.

Stella decides to change the subject rather than find out what Rupert is getting at. She doesn't know about Spike. Stella is well aware of who Angel is, but doesn't know anything about his love life.

ESTELLA: Vince was wondering if you needed anything else.

GILES: No. The facilities are more than adequate. Was the audio-visual equipment his idea?

ESTELLA: He thought it could be useful.

GILES: It has been. The girls can watch their sparring sessions and we can point out any bad habits before they set in.

ESTELLA: My brother will be happy to hear that. I should probably be heading back now.

GILES: It was good to see you again.

ESTELLA: Any problems, just let me know.

GILES: That's very kind of you.

ESTELLA: Well, I do have some power to make things happen.

GILES: It's refreshing — and rare — to hear someone say that who's on my side.

Buffy and Faith walk back into the room. Estella looks at Faith and starts quivering. Giles looks at her, looks and Faith and tries to figure out what's going on.

GILES: Er, Faith, this is Estella.

BUFFY: His girlfriend.

GILES: Well, that may be a tad presumptuous. Stella, is something wrong?

ESTELLA: We need to talk.

Estella grabs Rupert's arm and leads him out of the room and into an empty hallway where they can be alone.

BUFFY: What gave her the wiggins?

ESTELLA: What is she doing here!? Why isn't she in prison?

GILES: She was released last week.

ESTELLA: She came up for parole already? We were supposed to be notified.

GILES: There were extraordinary extenuating circumstances. Why are you so upset? Oh. Of course. You know that she worked for Mayor Wilkins.

ESTELLA: It's more than that. Richard and our family always had an understanding. We wouldn't try to kill him, and he wouldn't try to kill us. But in his last few months, he reneged with a vengeance.

GILES: That would have been after he became impervious.

ESTELLA: Vince suspected something was going to happen on Graduation Day. As Superintendent, he had the power to move the ceremony to another day. Publicly, he said that having the ceremony during a solar eclipse would be a bad omen for the graduates' futures. He pushed the event back a week.

GILES: Which would have severely undercut the Mayor's plans.

ESTELLA: Hence the assassination attempt.

GILES: He tried to - ? [Giles figures it out] FAITH tried to kill your brother. I'm sorry. I had no idea.

ESTELLA: Vince got a tip and fled town with his wife and kids two hours before she showed up at his house. The security cameras caught it all. Faith knew she was being taped. She trashed the place, looked up at a lens, and made it very clear that if my brother set foot in Sunnydale, she'd gut him. She also made various threats against his wife and his children which I'd rather not repeat. They had no choice but to stay away until Richard was dead. Vince was overruled in absentia by Snyder, and the show went on as scheduled.

GILES: I understand your trepidation. But —

ESTELLA: Since I was still in town, I was the one who had to look over the tapes. She's psychotic. There's no other way to put it.

GILES: She was psychotic. Faith's changed. She's on our side now. Do you think I would allow her to be here if she wasn't?

ESTELLA: So she, out of all his evil little minions, is one who's rehabilitated? The one he referred to as his daughter? Richard never had children. Tell you the truth, he didn't even like kids. She was the only one he ever got close to. Ever. And now, the girl who would have given her life for him is willing to give it for you?

GILES: She doesn't fight for me.

ESTELLA: She fights for herself. In other words, she could go either way, depending on the circumstances.

GILES: Stella, I give you my word, the Faith you see today is an entirely different young woman from the one you knew.

ESTELLA: You need two Slayers. Before, Buffy could always get the job done. This new thing's too powerful for her to defeat on her own?

GILES: Quite possibly. And even if it weren't, I would still want Faith around. Remember, she tried to kill Buffy on more than one occasion. And if Buffy trusts her, I don't see why you can't. I'm sorry, but you don't understand this situation.

ESTELLA: You're right. I don't. I've never had a mortal enemy become my ally. Have you?

GILES: Yes. On several occasions, if fact.

ESTELLA: Your ways are very different than ours. [rueful chuckle] I believe in redemption, salvation, the forgiveness of sins, all that good stuff. But I also believe in self-preservation. After Richard's death, we came into possession of most of his records. He kept very good, very neat, very legible records, which is what you'd expect from him. We were able to find and eliminate all of his operatives. Except for Faith. Since she was already incarcerated, and was supposed to remain so for a VERY long time, we thought we didn't need to bother.

GILES: Are you saying that you killed other humans who were in league with the Mayor?

ESTELLA: There weren't too many of them. Maybe seven, possibly eight. Plus a few half-demons.

GILES: You've taken human life.

ESTELLA: No me personally. My family's been fighting the Forces of Darkness for two centuries. We know a few people who can take care of that kind of thing.

GILES: I can't believe what I'm hearing. You're talking about ordering executions as if that were just another part of your job description. Which is exactly what your predecessor did.

ESTELLA: Rupert, you should know better by now. It was them or us. Did you think they'd give up once their boss was dead? In this town, the bad guys never give up. Even when they know it's a lost cause. Only one way to be sure they'll never hurt you again.

GILES: Apparently, there are two.

ESTELLA: We can't all be saints and reform the bad guys like you do.

GILES: To be honest, I played no part in reforming Faith.

ESTELLA: So it was Buffy. Of course. The Slayer bond.

GILES: No. As a matter of fact, Buffy tried to kill her. But only to save the life of another.

ESTELLA: I think you made my point.

GILES: Which point? That Faith can't be trusted?

ESTELLA: Touche. Looks like we've both lost this argument.

GILES: Funny. I thought we both of us won.

ESTELLA: Same difference. I'll trust you on this second Slayer. Just understand if I act a tad uneasy around her.

GILES: Not a problem. I feel more than a tad uneasy about a few of the people I live with. [mostly Spike. also Andrew, but to a much lesser degree.]

It's 6:00 pm. Angel sits in his office. Fred, Gunn and Lorne walk amongst the scaffolding and concrete dust of the now-deserted lobby.

LORNE: I don't care what Paul Simon says. I love the sound of silence.

GUNN: It's nice to have the place to ourselves again.

FRED: Wouldn't mind a few clients disturbing our peace and quiet.

LORNE: They'll come, sugarplum. Once they figure out we're back in business.

Cordelia comes downstairs and knocks on Angel's open door. He looks up from the book he was reading.

ANGEL: You've never had to knock.

CORDY: Lately, I've done a lot of things I've never done before.

ANGEL: Is that why you were in your room all day?

CORDY: I assumed you wouldn't get any work done while the hardhats were busy fixing all the damage I did.

ANGEL: Also, they would have whistled at you and made obscene comments.

CORDY: It's kind of you to try to make me feel better.

ANGEL: It really is the least I can do.

Cordy walks on into the room. Angel stands up and moves out from behind the desk.

CORDY: Right now, empathy isn't the way to go. You don't want to feel what I'm feeling. You already have too much torment to borrow other people's.

ANGEL: You have a right to feel sorry for yourself. But it won't help.

Cordelia looks outraged at this suggestion.

CORDY: You think that's what this is? You think I'm some simpering, weepy, little crybaby?

ANGEL: No. Which is why you shouldn't act like one. It doesn't suit you.

CORDY: And what does suit me? Helping people? Trying to make the world a better place? We both saw how that ended up.

ANGEL: It doesn't make sense.

CORDY: That I became evil because I fought evil? Tell me about it.

ANGEL: That's not what happened. We don't know why -

CORDY: My life was taken from me?

ANGEL: All I know is, it wasn't your fault.

CORDY: How do YOU know that? I don't even know that.

ANGEL: Then we find out. It's better being a recluse.

CORDY: I've kept to myself for two days. You of all people should know that doesn't make me some self-pitying guilt-bomb who's hiding from the world. Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.

ANGEL: Sure you did. That's who you are. Or were. It's one of the things I miss about you.

CORDY: Yeah, this place must be pretty dull without me.

ANGEL: It can never be dull around here. Maybe a little bland.

CORDY: Any new cases?

ANGEL: Right now, you're the only one.

CORDY: So that's all I am to you now? A project?

ANGEL: We want to help you find the truth.

CORDY: You mean you want to help me.

WES: And me.

GUNN: Me too.

LORNE: Ditto, cupcake.

FRED: And ya can count me in.

Cordelia sees the four of them looking in.

CORDY: Dammit. I forgot to close the door. Didn't this scream Private Conversation to you guys?

LORNE: There's the Cordy we know and love.

CORDY: Fine. You can help. Just don't go getting all mushy on me.

ANGEL: We need to talk to the Powers.

LORNE: Don't you have a connection to the Oracles?

ANGEL: I tried to see them last year. They said I've used up all my visits for at least three years.

LORNE: How many times did you meet with them before we met?

CORDY: The Oracles are just messenger boys. They only know what they're told.

GUNN: Then we contact whoever it is that's telling them.

CORDY: There is an easier way. I remember how to summon Skip. If anyone knows, it's him.

FRED: Who's Skip?

CORDY: My guardian angel. Or my evil guardian angel. He made me part demon. Then he made me a Higher Being.

WES: An interrogation. With Angel in the room, I'm sure we can extract a confession. [Fred and Gunn look at Wesley like he's a sadist] Cordelia said he could be evil.

CORDY: It's not that easy. He could teleport out of this dimension in the blink of an eye. Or he could stop time and walk away.

ANGEL: You're saying we need a way to make sure he stays put. What kind of demon is Skip?

CORDY: I'm not sure. Large. Probably very strong. And armour-plated.

WES: He has some sort of shell?

CORDY: No. Skip has metal plates over his skin. Or that is his skin. I've never checked underneath.

LORNE: Magical. And ironclad. That's just peachy.

FRED: That's it! Lorne, you did it.

LORNE: If you insist.

FRED: We just stick him to a big magnet.

GUNN: Sounds a little too Loony Tunes.

FRED: I've read that magnetic fields distort magical energy. That could prevent him from using his powers to escape.

WES: Only an immensely powerful electro-magnetic field.

FRED: Good. Cause that's the only kind I got.

Everyone looks at Fred. She'll have to explain.

NEXT: The Reapers terrorize the Potentials, causing Buffy to go on the offensive. Plus, Skip explains why the Powers exploited and abused Cordelia. He also tells them what happened to Cordy's visions.


	5. Off With His Head

Its eight in the evening. Buffy is in the living room, trying to decide on her plan of action for the night.

BUFFY: They want the Potentials. Tell me why we should give the enemy what they want.

GILES: Because you and Faith -

BUFFY: And Spike.

GILES: Will then be outnumbered and massacred.

BUFFY: By the handful of Reapers they've thrown at us?

GILES: You know there are more out there.

BUFFY: Maybe they don't all attack at once. Have all the vampires in town ever attacked me at once?

GILES: Vampires don't have a purpose. The Reapers do.

BUFFY: I know. To prepare the way for something. Face it Giles, they're the opening act. And my job is to kill them and keep the girls out of danger until the main event shows up.

GILES: Mixed metaphors aside, I don't want you walking into a trap. If you and Faith are gone, who can protect them?

BUFFY: Way ahead of you. We go out and hunt. If we find more than we can handle, we run home. These guys are fast, but we can keep a step ahead of them. Have the Potentials ready. If you see us, bring them into action. They come out and help us ambush the Reapers in the front yard. If things get too tough, they can always retreat indoors.

GILES: I would feel more comfortable if I could come along in my van. Then, if trouble arises, you and Faith can hop in. Also, if the two of you are ever surrounded -

BUFFY: If the THREE of us.

GILES: I can drive into the melee, run over a few Reapers, and pick you up and plow our way out of danger.

BUFFY: We still need someone here in charge of the Potentials.

GILES: Kennedy's a capable leader.

In the kitchen, Andrew is annoying Faith.

ANDREW: We're more alike than you think.

FAITH: You mean like how you have the hots for Lindsey?

ANDREW: I do not! You take that back.

FAITH: Someone's wicked deep in denial.

ANDREW: And you're eager to change the subject. A little too eager. We've both given in to our darker natures. We both know what if feels like to take a human life.

FAITH: You, me and Charles Manson. You think he's also your kindred spirit?

ANDREW: And we are both on a quest for redemption.

FAITH: Quest? What fantasy world are you living in? I'm doing my job. You're doing – I don't know what you're doing. Except driving everyone nuts.

ANYA: He's also a human shield and/or sacrificial lamb. In case saving the world requires ritual human sacrifice. It has in the past.

Someone outside starts banging on the front door.

CARMELITA: Ayudame! Ayudame!!

Buffy runs into the hallway and opens the door. The moment she twists the doorknob, a Reaper standing on the sidewalk throws his hat at Carmelita, the teenage girl standing on the porch. The blades under the hat's brim slice through Carmelita's neck as Buffy opens the door. The hat sails within an inch of Buffy's nose and lodges itself into the banister. The severed head rolls into the foyer. The Potentials see it, and are naturally horrified. Faith runs over to the weapons chest and grabs a broad sword. She throws this to Buffy. The Reaper runs away. Faith takes her Reaper dagger-and-sword and joins Buffy in chasing the demon. Spike rips the hat out of the banister and runs outside. Giles is left to deal with the aftermath. This attack was intended to hurt morale, and making the Potentials witness the violent death of a teenage girl can't help but achieve that goal. Spike goes straight to Cecil's house. Cecil stands under the lights under his rear colonnade, perusing that day's Financial Times. Spike grabs him and pushes Cecil into one of the white fluted wooden columns.

CECIL: A little early. Since when did you wear a hat?

Spike takes off the hat and swings it towards Cecil's neck, making a small cut. Cecil grabs the wound.

CECIL: They had one of those in "Goldfinger." Except it was a Bowler. That's a Fedora.

SPIKE: You better have what I want.

CECIL: [smirks] Why would you think I had Buffy?

Spike punches Cecil in the nose.

SPIKE: I am very bloody serious.

CECIL: Man have you changed. I'll go in and get it, Mister Grumpy. Meet me in the hedges.

Spike looks out across the backyard. Beyond the lighted pool is a maze of hedges. The paths between the hedges are lit. He wonders if Cecil sets people loose in the labyrinth and then hunts them down. That's what he would've done if he were still evil. A few minutes later, Spike meets Cecil in the maze. Cecil hands Spike a sheet of paper.

CECIL: These Reapers are very easy to find. They throw demons out of their lairs and nest pretty much anywhere they want. Best as I can tell, there are more than a dozen of them in town. Sunnydale is thirty square miles in area, and the Reapers are using every acre. They've spread out. None of them are within two miles of another. The X's are ones I've spotted personally. The O's are confirmed by more than one demon. The P's are confirmed by only one demon.

SPIKE: Demons aren't in the habit of doing favors for vampires.

CECIL: Demons are also very cheap. All I had to do was slip them a twenty. For me, that's wrapping paper.

SPIKE: Tomorrow night, eight o'clock, behind Willy's.

CECIL: Make it McGee's. I don't think either of us want to be near that many demons.

Spike takes the piece of paper and runs off. Cecil walks back to the house and sees his girlfriend dive into the pool. He decides to check out a boys' high school soccer game in a neighboring town. His girl likes it when her food's splashing around as she bites it. After chasing the Reaper for more than a mile, Buffy forces him into a dead end. The Reapers are new in town and don't know all the alleys. He leaps on top of a dumpster, jumps up from the dumpster and grabs the roof. Buffy leaps up, takes hold of his legs and pulls him down. Both of them fall to the ground, roll and stand up. The Reaper pulls out his weapons. He sees Buffy on his right and Faith on his left. He swings his sword at Buffy. When she blocks it, he spins around and stabs for Faith with his dagger. She blocks it. He swings his sword for her neck. Faith ducks and stabs the demon in the chest with her sword. He spins and downs her with a left roundhouse kick. Buffy comes at him from behind. The demon quickly spins the other way and knocks Buffy's sword to the ground with a right roundhouse kick. The Reaper stabs for the unarmed Slayer's heart. Buffy grabs his right arm and throws the demon onto his back. She picks up her sword and hacks downward. The Reaper rolls away and stands up. Buffy's swords smashes into the pavement. Faith jumps off Buffy's back and knocks the demon into the wall with a flying right kick. He stabs with his dagger, then his sword. Faith is quick enough to step back and block both attempts with her weapons. While the Reaper's weapons are entangled with Faith's, Buffy swings her sword. The blade clips the top of Faith's hair and decapitates the Reaper. Faith is a little unnerved. It takes her a few seconds to catch her breath.

FAITH: Almost got two birds with that stone, B.

BUFFY: No I didn't. Hitting you would've taken too much speed out of the blade.

FAITH: So it was him or me.

BUFFY: Good thing for both of us you kept your knees bent and didn't try to stand up straight.

FAITH: Good thing for you I drew his fire.

BUFFY: Couldn't have done it without you.

FAITH: Same here. You made a pretty decent vault.

They notice two people walking by and try to conceal their weapons.

BUFFY: Maybe we should get back to the girls.

FAITH: Should we bring him?

Buffy pick up his severed head.

BUFFY: Just this.

FAITH: Don't forget about these. [Faith takes his weapons] Too bad these guys weren't around the last time we were rolling together. Wouldn't have needed to rob that place.

BUFFY: It's nice when the demons leave gifts.

They walk out of the alley. Faith gives Buffy two of her weapons to put in her belt and hide under Buffy's coat. Once they're out on the street. Buffy also tries to conceal the head beneath her coat. Faith, who doesn't have a coat, keeps her dagger and sword on her belt, practically daring passers-by to stare. They don't, since the weapons make Faith look even more intimidating that usual. Spike decides not to wait. He enters the sewers, looks at Cecil's map under the light of his Zippo, and finds his way to the nearest X. The Reaper sees a man in a long coat with a Fedora on his head coming out of the darkness. He can sense that this guy isn't one of his own. The Reapers walks towards Spike. He can hear the Reaper pull out his weapons. They stand twenty feet apart. The Reaper leaps at the vampire. Spike stands still. He takes off the hat and flings it at the Reaper, beheading the demon when he is fifteen feet away. The head and body splash into the three inches of water at the bottom of the storm sewer. Spike checks his hair, making sure the hat didn't mess it up. That's why he never wore one when they were in style. Spike picks up the head.

SPIKE: Girls always like a thoughtful gift.

Angel walks into Connor's room. He's leaning back on his bed, watching The Sopranos.

ANGEL: What is this? I don't have HBO.

CONNOR: It's a DVD.

ANGEL: Oh. Wait. I don't have a DVD player!

CONNOR: I do. Brought it over from my old place.

ANGEL: How did you get a DVD?

CONNOR: Scavenging.

ANGEL: Where? Inside a Radio Shack?

CONNOR: Vampire's nest. You never took from you prey?

ANGEL: Demons are not prey. So the vampire also had this show?

CONNOR: No. I borrowed it from the library.

ANGEL: Libraries are supposed to have books. And educational things. Not . . . graphic entertainment that glorifies criminality.

CONNOR: I also got a book.

Connor points to his night stand. Angel looks and sees Sartre's "Being and Nothingness." Angel's dormant heart swells with pride.

ANGEL: You've read that? You like reading that sort of thing?

CONNOR: Just the first thirty pages so far. It's okay.

ANGEL: Then turn that off. No more tv until you finish the book. House rules.

Connor looks up at Angel and smirks.

CONNOR: Since when?

ANGEL: Since always. I mean, that's what they were going to be. When you were old enough to read. [Angel looks longingly into the distance. Connor decides to throw his dad a bone.]

CONNOR: I read all day.

ANGEL: Really? What did you read?

CONNOR: A couple history books. Why are you riding me so hard?

ANGEL: I'm just curious about what my son likes. And I'm glad that you like to read and learn stuff you don't need to. Reminds me a little of myself.

CONNOR: Take that back.

ANGEL: God forbid you're anything like your old man.

Connor restarts the show, which he had paused when Angel entered. Angel sees a framed picture on the dresser.

ANGEL: Well she, certainly looks a lot different than I remembered. Four years is a long time. Who are these other people?

CONNOR: Kit and Eli. Kit's Dawn's best friend. Eli's her boyfriend. He's cool. I like hanging out with him.

ANGEL: So he's your friend?

CONNOR: Yeah.

ANGEL Does he know?

CONNOR: My history? Yeah. He's cool with it. It's nice to have someone to talk to who isn't a demon fighter.

ANGEL: I see how it could be refreshing to chat to a normal kid. Though I'm surprised he's so blase about who you are.

CONNOR: Eli doesn't care. He likes me cause he thinks I'm a good person. And he's coming here for college. So then we can hang out even more. And Dawn and Kit can come up, so the four of us will be hanging out together again. We have a lot of fun together.

Angel realized what was going on. Connor wasn't just trying to date Dawn. He was also trying to become friends with her friends. He was putting down roots and going completely against his anti-social nature. This didn't bode well for Angel's hope that Connor would move past Buffy's sister. He looked at the picture for a few more seconds. Kit was tall and pale, with black hair and black lipstick. Elijah was short and scrawny with light blonde hair. And then it hit Angel: if Connor wanted Dawn, why didn't he want to be alone with her? Why did he also want to be with her friends? Because they were a gang, or a pack, or a quartet. Like Angelus's old quartet. Now that was frightening. Angel turns away from the picture and looks at the television. Two men attack Tony while he's driving down the street. He gets shot once, but manages, after a sloppy fight, to kill the two assailants and drive away.

ANGEL: Why do you watch this?

CONNOR: It's something different. You know, from our life.

ANGEL: I suppose it is. Evil wins. The innocent get blown away. Helpless young women are abused with impunity, and no one's there to save them.

CONNOR: That's why it's interesting.

ANGEL: You like watching women get abused?

CONNOR: No. I like seeing how the bad guys operate. It makes me think. I mean, if Wolfram & Hart had hired these guys, we'd all be dead by now.

ANGEL: Of course. Why didn't I see it earlier? We can defeat world-destroying apocalypse demons, but would get crushed by organized crime.

CONNOR: You agree with me.

ANGEL: I was being sarcastic. And for the record I have personally defeated at least one very powerful mobster.

CONNOR: Since when did LA have decent mafia? A Blood or a Crip, that would be something to brag about.

ANGEL: Why do you know so much about criminals?

CONNOR: Turn on the tv sometime.

ANGEL: That's one of the reasons I don't like you watching so much television. And no way could Tony Soprano kill me. [looks up at the ceiling, exasperated] I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

CONNOR: Sure he would kill you. He'd just wait until you were out patrolling and drive by. You wouldn't notice. Just another car. Then someone pulls down a window, hits you with a couple tranq darts. They toss you in the trunk, drive you someplace secluded and cut your head off.

ANGEL: You put way too much thought into that.

CONNOR: I'm just saying, you're lucky not to have enemies like him.

ANGEL: Or you.

CONNOR: [smiles bashfully] Thanks.

ANGEL: I didn't mean it as a compliment.

CONNOR: I won't hurt you. Dawn says I should be nice to you.

ANGEL: Is that the only reason?

CONNOR: People need family. You're the only family I got. Plus you're good at hunting. Wanna go out tonight?

Angel pulls up the back of Connor's shirt and sees the purple bruise on his lower back from where Dru repeatedly kicked him.

ANGEL: How bout tomorrow, when you're 100 percent.

CONNOR: I'm okay.

ANGEL: You'll be more okay tomorrow night. Besides, there isn't much out there tonight.

Spike returns thirty minutes after Buffy and Faith came back to the house. He proudly holds up his trophy.

SPIKE: Look what I got. [Spike sees a Reaper head on the dining room table] Bugger.

BUFFY: Oh. You got another. Good.

GILES: A Reaper attacked YOU?

SPIKE: No. I came after it. Tracked it down in the sewers. That's where they're hiding out.

BUFFY: How many?

SPIKE: Only saw this one.

BUFFY: But now you know its scent. So you can track the others.

SPIKE: I can try. It's a very faint scent.

BUFFY: No point staying here doing nothing.

Spike checked out a few of the other places on Cecil's map, but the Reapers had already fled. He doesn't realize that his killing scared the others off.

GILES: Go along. We'll be fine in here.

Dawn checks the head Spike just brought in with a magnifying glass.

DAWN: This one's a lot more legible than the others. No dirt. No scarring. Thanks Spike. But next time, remember to cut off the hands.

Spike's a little wigged by Dawny's ho-hum attitude about freshly severed demon parts. So, of course, is Buffy.

DAWN: Hey! It's oozing on the table. Andrew, can you clean this one out? [she holds out the head towards the kitchen] Andrew, I'm waiting! If you don't want Reaper guts dripping on the carpet -

He quickly comes up and takes the head, carrying it over to the sink. Faith walks up to Spike and whispers something into his ear.

SPIKE: No. She became scary long before she met him.

The two episodes Connor rented are over. The credits roll as Johnny Thunders' "You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory" plays on the tv speakers. Connor stands up and walks towards the television. Cordelia enters. Connor turns the tv off.

CORDY: If you don't want to see me, I understand.

CONNOR: Come in. I'm not mad at you.

CORDY: You should be.

CONNOR: I'm over it.

CORDY: SInce when?

CONNOR: You know.

Cordelia looks at the pictures on the dresser.

CORDY: Ohhh. Since her.

CONNOR: She likes you.

CORDY: That was nice of those monks. What does Dawn say about me?

CONNOR: She said you told her she had great skin, just like her mother. [laughs] And that, at first, you thought that skipped a generation in her family. But you were you wrong. It just skipped Buffy!

Cordelia laughs.

CORDY: Those monks really knew their stuff. [laughs some more] I like that one. I'll have to use it for real when we finally really meet. [picks up a picture of Dawn] She's pretty. A whole lot prettier than Buffy.

CONNOR: Glad someone else finally noticed that.

CORDY: You two look good together. It's nice to see you smiling and happy for a very drastic change.

CONNOR: Be nice to see you happy.

CORDY: [sighs] Don't hold your breath.

CONNOR: It doesn't make sense. Everything with you happens the opposite way it should.

CORDY: Thanks for trying, but I don't deserve your sympathy.

CONNOR: Why Xander?

CORDY: As regrets go, that's way down the list for me.

CONNOR: What did you see in him? I mean, what good stuff?

CORDY: Well, for starters, I saw him in a Speedo – which you probably don't want to hear about. He wasn't like other guys my age.

CONNOR: They were probably smarter and stronger and better-looking.

CORDY: And all of them would scream and run if a vampire attacked me. Xander was brave. And funny. Even if he was a badly-dressed loser. Look Connor, there are some things which don't make sense when you look back, but made complete sense at the time. It's wrong to take things out of context.

CONNOR: He didn't deserve you, he was lucky you liked him, but he betrayed you. And the sick thing is he keeps doing it. There should be a place in Hell for men like that.

CORDY: That's sweet of you to say. In a sick way, I mean. Xander suffers enough when he ends up alone and realizes what a sad, pathetic wretch he is.

CONNOR: I missed you. Even when I was mad at you.

CORDY: Thanks. I missed you too.

CONNOR: Things should be good now that I'm over you.

Cordy pauses before replying to this barbed compliment.

CORDY: That's one of the things I like about you, Connor. You say what you feel. [Cordy smiles] Like me. [Connor also smiles] Except without my skillful command of the English language. [Connor scowls]

CONNOR: I thought you said I was good with words?

CORDY: Sweet talk? Yes. Insults? Not quite.

CONNOR: [smirks] Or maybe I'm just a nice guy who doesn't like hurting people's feelings.

CORDY: I hope not. I'd hate to see you go dull.

CONNOR: Don't worry. I won't. What's going on tonight? I heard you guys talking downstairs about something.

CORDY: We're just going through bills and books and getting this place back on its feet again. It's been a long, crazy couple of weeks.

At midnight, Angel, Cordelia, Gunn, Wes and Fred get out of Cordy's SUV. They are on the campus of Fred's former university.

CORDY: It would be nice if you would tell us why we're here.

FRED: You'll see.

GUNN: I've seen a lotta things at this school. All of them bad.

FRED: It's been a couple years. Hopefully, my prox card will still work.

She puts the card up against the sensor, which flashes green. Fred smiles and opens the door to the science building. Everyone follows her as she snakes her way down a few hallways and a flight of stairs before stopping at a door with a large glass pane in the middle. Next to the door is a keypad.

FRED: Let's see. It's Stuart's wedding anniversary. That would be . . . what would it be again?

ANGEL: If that doesn't work, I can just break through the glass.

FRED: And set off the alarm!

ANGEL: Big deal. I can knock a couple security guards out.

FRED: Does everything you do have to have a body count!?

ANGEL: Sorry. I just wanted to help. And I think the stakes are high enough for us to run those risks.

FRED: Or, you could shut up and let me think. [five seconds pass. Fred types in the code. It's correct] Yes! [does a little happy dance] What? I can't get giddy?

Fred opens the door and turns on the lights. She takes a left and stops in front of a glass-enclosed room with a metal machine in the center.

WES: A high-powered electromagnet. Of course.

FRED: If this doesn't hold our evil angel, nothing will.

ANGEL: Can you try not to use that word?

Fred rubs his back, showing both affection and condescension.

FRED: You do know you're not the only angel? Your name is kinda in the public domain.

Cordy wonders if Fred's trying to move into her old catty corner and become the woman Angel depends on. She certainly is expropriating Cordy's flirtatious teasing. But Cordy's mind quickly returns to far more pressing matters.

CORDY: Do I summon him before or after you turn that on?

FRED: It hasta be before. Once he appears, I flip the switch. If he's as metallic as you say, he won't be goin' anywhere.

Cordelia goes over the summoning incantation in her head a few times before reciting it. Skip appears inside the room which is separated from Cordy and her friends by a pane of glass. Skip glances around.

SKIP: This is new scenery. Who's your decorator, Stanley Kubrick?

Fred puts it on full power. Skip sees Cordelia.

SKIP: Cordelia! Isn't this a surprise.

He gets nervous and tries to teleport out of there. Instead, he is pulled ten feet backwards. His back slams into the magnet. He tries again. It's no use. His arms are pulled back almost out of their sockets. His chin ring shoots straight out and presses in against his chin. The metal on his head and chest presses into his flesh. For a second, it looks like he's going to be crushed by his own armor. Skip cries out in pain.

CORDY: It's too strong!

FRED: You think it's gonna kill him?

CORDY: No! But we won't be able to hear him!! It's too damn loud!!!

Fred takes it down to one-quarter of maximum power. The noise level drops from a deafening roar to a loud hum. Skip is still grimacing, but stops screaming. He is breathing fast, and appears to be badly wounded.

SKIP: Eviscerating me with my own skin! Cordy, have you considered a future as a Vengeance Demon? I know a few people who can make that happen.

Cordelia enters the chamber. Angel follows behind her, just in case. Fred has the mics and speakers on so she, Wes and Gunn can hear what is said.

CORDELIA: This isn't about vengeance. Not yet.

SKIP: Cordy's getting her bitch on. It's good to see that side of you again. The whole saint-in-white thing was a bit much. Besides, you looked awful as a blonde.

ANGEL: If I were in your position, I'd be trying a lot less wisecracking and a little more begging.

SKIP: Liar. The only thing you'd beg for is for your four-eyed Lab Bunny to turn the power up, so I could suffer more.

Fred turns it back to full power for five seconds, then pulls it back down. Wes and Gunn look at her.

FRED: I'll show him not to call me lab bunny.

As usual, these two men find Fred even hotter when she's taking charge and kicking ass.

CORDY: You're going to answer my questions. If I think you're telling the whole truth, you leave in one piece. If not, you stay. And you start losing body parts.

Skip looks over Cordy's shoulder at glowering Angel.

SKIP: Unless he's got a plastic sword, he ain't cutting them off. Which means he plans to tear them off. So that's the kinda thing you girls go for in a man.

CORDY: Why was I sent back evil?

SKIP: Because you broke the rules. You abused your power and interfered.

ANGEL: Cordy disobeys orders, and you punish the city of Los Angeles?

SKIP: The Powers do love collective guilt. And they hate hubris. Did you really think you were Divine Being material? That stairway to Heaven was one big ego trip for you.

CORDY: It wasn't as if you gave me a choice.

SKIP: You didn't try to say no.

CORDY: You stopped time! If that doesn't scream "Offer You Can't Refuse," I don't know what does.

SKIP: [sighs] Very well. We'll see if you can handle the truth. The Powers don't care about you, Cordy. They only care about Angel. You're expendable. Just like Doyle. Just like everyone else who gets caught up in Angel's orbit. [he looks above Cordy's and Angel's heads so he can make momentary eye contact with Wes, Fred and Gunn] You're pawns. Cannon fodder. Tools we can use to get a rise out of Angel.

ANGEL: So the Powers don't care about the fight against evil.

SKIP: You say that like they're all of one mind. Powers is plural, Einstein. And some of them like playing games. Cruel games. But ones where the good team wins in the end. As for the casualties, they don't care. Couple thousand humans are like flies on the windshield to those fellas. Sorry to burst your bubble. But you have to admit it was a good joke. Making sure Cordy couldn't stop your son from throwing you overboard. Then programming her to ravage the boy, raise a stone demon, blot out the sun and take away your soul. You're like that Coyote who chases the Woodpecker. Every time an anvil falls on you, it's freakin' hilarious.

ANGEL: If you want to leave here alive -

SKIP: I'm telling you what you want to know, hoss! So simmer down. And thank me for the favor I did you by nipping your Cordy infatuation in the bud. Just imagine if you had fallen for her. That would have really nixed your chances with the Slayer. You settle for Cordelia, she settles for that other vampire. Which, if you think about it, wouldn't have been so bad. Unless you're one of those hopeless romantics so caught up on true love he doesn't know a good thing when he's got it.

CORDY: Quit wasting my time.

ANGEL: We're not here for your color commentary.

SKIP: Commentary? Just the facts, Angie. You think she risked having her head blown apart so you two could just be friends? Or didn't it matter so long as she was useful.

CORDY: What happened to my visions?

SKIP: Angel has them. Although, he can't have them.

CORDY: You give me riddles, I'll just leave you here.

Fred takes the cue and turns it up on full power for ten seconds to give Skip a taste of what will happen if he keeps being uncooperative.

SKIP: Angel took the visions. But only living things can have them. As long as the power's stuck inside him, it's useless.

CORDY: Liar! You showed him having them.

SKIP: You thought that alternate reality was real? You as the Gen X Mary Tyler Moore! [laughs] I showed you what you wanted to see. You were conceited enough to assume it was the truth. [pauses] So am I done here?

ANGEL: That's up to me. [looks back at Fred] Turn it off.

CORDY: Angel, please don't. He's not worth it.

ANGEL: I just want a word with Skippy in private.

Cordelia can tell from Angel's intense glaring that he's made up his mind on this one. She walks out to join the others, closes the door and turns off the speakers so they can't hear what the two demons are talking about.

FRED: What's he doin'?

GUNN: Takin' out a few frustrations.

WES: He'll vanish before Angel gets the chance.

SKIP: What's this? Sticking up for your girl? One problem with that, chief. She ain't your girl.

ANGEL: One question, Skippy. When did you discover how much fun it was to be evil?

SKIP: You think I'm evil?

ANGEL: You get off on hurting people and watching them suffer.

SKIP: You're talking nonsense, cold blood. What person doesn't like knocking some self-righteous bastard who thinks he's better than everyone else down a peg? That ain't evil. It's called restoring the balance.

ANGEL: You got a problem with me, then go after me. Don't be a coward and take pot shots at my friends.

SKIP: Wasn't my call.

ANGEL: Only following orders?

SKIP: I refuse, I lose my eternal life, and they get someone else. Don't blame the messenger. And don't throw stones in a room with glass walls.

ANGEL: You're doing enough of that for the both of us.

SKIP: Just perfect. You want to kill me for telling the truth.

ANGEL: I want to kill you for putting someone I love through a living hell.

SKIP: Shame on you. Carelessly throwing around a word like that. No wonder she was confused. Cordy's life is a tragedy. But I'm not the one who wrote it. Who was it who said "the greatest tragedy in life is loving someone who doesn't love you"? I know I'm paraphrasing. Pretty sure she was from the 17th century. It's hard to remember all those old names. Know what I mean? Toodles, Champ.

Fred sees his body start to disintegrate. She turns the magnet back to full power. Angel leaves the room. Fred turns out the lights and the five of them leave the building. Skip's trapped alone, in the dark, in excruciating pain. When they get outside, Fred goes back to turn the machine off. When the light comes on, Skip is relieved. His armor's been trying to cut through his flesh for over a minute. Fred powers it down. Skip walks the pain off. Then he stands, grimacing in pain, and looks up at Fred.

SKIP: Give Cordy my thanks. If I knew it would be this much fun, I would've come down on my own.

Fred doesn't respond. She just scowls, turns the lights back off, and leaves. Skip smiles.

SKIP: It always starts with vengeance. [he disappears]


	6. That Vision Thing

After dinner Tuesday evening, Giles sat with his books at the dining room table, looking troubled. Buffy came in to talk.

BUFFY: What's wrong? Besides what's always wrong around here.

GILES: The young woman who showed up yesterday was a Potential Slayer.

BUFFY: I figured. The First doesn't go after just any teenager.

GILES: Here name was Carmelita. Last month, I was supposed to travel to Honduras to pick her up. The trip was cancelled after I was told she had disappeared and was presumed dead.

Buffy realized this was worse than their usual assassinations. A lump formed in her throat.

BUFFY: They kidnapped her, kept her all this time, and dropped her off a few feet from safety so that I could watch her die.

GILES: Clearly, our enemies are escalating their efforts. And that's not the worst part.

BUFFY: You know what's coming?

GILES: No. But I have some idea of what's already happened. I can't get in touch with Robson. Or with any of the Seers. For the last several days, I haven't been able to contact anyone from the Council. Either they all went into hiding without notifying me -

BUFFY: Or they're all dead. Oh God.

GILES: The Reapers appear to be finishing what the Bringers started. That must be why so far only a few of them have showed up in Sunnydale.

BUFFY: The First is isolating us.

GILES: They seem intent on preventing any outside help from reaching us.

BUFFY: Then why didn't they try harder to kill Faith before she came here?

GILES: Because they wanted her at the Hellmouth. The demon attacks in prison were too feeble to kill her, but sensational enough to get her released. And that single Reaper engaged her in Los Angeles to remind Faith who her number one enemy was and to show her she couldn't battle it on her own.

BUFFY: Are you saying they're going to try to use Faith against us?

GILES: There isn't time. If that were their intention, the First would have brought Faith here months ago.

BUFFY: But why fight two Slayers?

GILES: Fulfillment of their prophecy. That's my best guess. The graffiti on the Reapers alludes repeatedly to two Slayers. They must believe that both Slayers have to be present before the climactic battle can begin.

BUFFY: We can easily deal with these Reapers. I dusted the uber-vamp by myself. What do they plan to throw at us that's tough enough to take down two Slayers?

GILES: The glyphs allude to something older than demons and rarer than gods. I wish I could tell you more.

BUFFY: Big bad says just enough to scare us but not enough give us anything useful. Some things never change.

Spike meets Cecil behind a tavern.

CECIL: You wanna have a beer while we talk?

SPIKE: Hand it over, CC.

CECIL: I hate when you're all business.

SPIKE: Why? That's all you've ever been.

CECIL: But I have fun with my work. Anyhoo, I got good news and bad.

SPIKE: Start with the bad. And pray it's not bad enough to make me stake you.

CECIL: Those Reapers are gone.

SPIKE: I'm sensing someone welshed on his end of the bargain.

CECIL: I checked everywhere. I swear! They vanished. But I found all their nests. The demons are too scared to try to retake them.

SPIKE: How could you find empty nests?

CECIL: These guys have a very distinctive scent. Like burning rubber. Which makes it very easy to sniff out where they slept the night before. [hands Spike a sheet of paper] Sixteen nests.

Spike does a little math.

SPIKE: That would be all of them.

CECIL: Then you got what you need.

SPIKE: Assuming they're stupid enough to return to their old lairs.

CECIL: Look at the pattern. This is precision placement. Each Reaper is 1.4 miles from any other Reaper. Slightly closer than they were yesterday. Now that red dot's the Hellmouth. Observe how they radiate symmetrically around it. Like a wave pattern. How many did you and the Slayers kill yesterday?

SPIKE: Two.

CECIL: So they move closer to the Mouth when their numbers are reduced. It looks like a fairly simple mathematical relationship. If I figure out the algorithm, I can tell you where they'll be depending on how many are left. You'll be able to know in advance no matter what.

SPIKE: Same time tomorrow.

CECIL: I'll probably have it all figured out by then.

SPIKE: And the night after.

CECIL: But you'll have all you'll need!

SPIKE: If that's the case, you won't have a reason to avoid me.

Spike walks away with his usual swagger. Cecil nervously glances both ways, then scampers off into the darkness. After a quick check of the tunnels turns up nothing, Spike returns home.

SPIKE: They're gone.

GILES: The Reapers have left town?

SPIKE: Or they found a way to make themselves invisible. But even then I could smell them. Wouldn't be the first time a beasty took the night off.

GILES: We can still go patrolling. If the Reapers fail to show, they are always vampires to slay.

KENNEDY: Giles, can we go to the Bronze?

GILES: I don't know if that would be wise.

KENNEDY: Why not? It's just as safe as staying here.

BUFFY: She's right.

GILES: Of course. I forgot the club was included in the deal resulting from Spike's unspeakable deeds.

ANYA: Let's not forget about Angel's.

BUFFY: Can we forget about both?

GILES: I suppose a night out would help calm the girls after yesterday's [takes off glasses, rubs eyes] unpleasantness.

KENNEDY: Plus, Liz Phair's playing tonight.

SPIKE: She is!! Bloody fabulous. It been a long time since I've seen that bird.

BUFFY: Would this be another one of your ex-girlfriends?

Spike gets a good laugh out of this.

SPIKE: I wish. [he realizes that might not have been the best response] Look, I'm just a fan. I've never even met the bird. Besides, she's married.

KENNEDY: Recently divorced.

SPIKE: Really. [smiles.] Buffy, I'm kidding.

KENNEDY: Like you'd have a chance with her. I'm pretty sure you're not her type.

BUFFY: She's also recently gay?

KENNEDY: I wish. [notices Willow glaring at her] God! Lighten up. Do you two take hafta be such jealousy queens? Wait a minute. We don't have tickets. Show's probably been sold out for weeks.

ANYA: We all have a ticket. Her name's Buffy.

BUFFY: I'm not going to beat up the doorman and force our way in there.

FAITH: Been there. Done that.

ANYA: Lorne talked to Bruce – that's the owner. He's aware of how many times you saved his clientele from grisly mass slaughter. Your presence is worth money to him. If anything, Bruce should pay you. That's why he hasn't made you pay a cover charge for six years.

BUFFY: The Bronze has a cover charge?

XANDER: Five dollars normally. Ten when there's a band. Although, now that I think about it, I've only paid when I wasn't with you.

WILLOW: Me too.

SPIKE: I've never paid. With or without the Slayer.

ANYA: That's because you sneak in.

GILES: This is all very interesting, but there must be a limit on the number of non-paying guests Buffy would be allowed to bring in.

ANYA: If she came with hundreds of "friends," perhaps. But from a cost-benefits perspective, there's no reason for Bruce to turn Buffy away and risk the bad publicity of mass murder just because she wants a couple dozen people not to pay for admission.

WILLOW: Except that can't happen now.

ANYA: Bruce doesn't know about the protection spell.

SPIKE: If he did, could I get free beers and maybe a couple of those onion flower things? I think I deserve at least that.

XANDER: Yeah, you deserve a whole lot more.

SPIKE: You mean free beers for life?

XANDER: That's not what I had in mind. So are we going?

BUFFY: It'll do them good to get out. [stops Dawn as she walks towards the door] Not you.

DAWN: Why not!?

BUFFY: You have homework.

DAWN: That's not a good reason. I always have homework.

BUFFY: Which means you should do it on the nights you're not busy researching monsters.

Dawn pouts and sulks her way up the stairs.

BUFFY: Okay Andrew. You're in charge of this house for tonight. Think you can handle the responsibility?

ANDREW: I'm ready to serve the cause.

BUFFY: Good. Can you give it a good cleaning while we're out?

ANDREW: You won't be disappointed.

Buffy, Giles, Anya and Xander walk into the foyer.

GILES: You know I'm not comfortable with exploiting the hostage for menial labor.

ANYA: It's a matter of simple efficiency. Andrew is the least skilled at demon killing. Therefore, he helps us best by doing our non-demon killing work for us. Everyone contributes in their best possible way.

BUFFY: How do you contribute?

GILES: Buffy, please. Anya is our friend. She is here because we love her and care about her irregardless of her abilities.

XANDER: What do you mean you love her?

ANYA: And what do you mean I'm useless!?

GILES: Last time I try paying someone a bloody compliment.

WES: I found a spell for transferring visions without, well, intimate contact. Though I'm not sure if we have access to all of these ingredients. Specifically these two.

Lorne looks at the book.

LORNE: I know a demon who can get us those.

WES: Which brings us to the bigger question.

Wes, Fred, Lorne and Gunn look at Angel, who is taken aback by all the sudden attention.

ANGEL: What?

GUNN: Who you gonna give the visions to?

ANGEL: Sorry. That would be the question of the moment. Obviously not you, or Fred, or Wesley. What demon friends do I have who could take on this burden?

FRED: Hello! He's sitting right in front of you.

LORNE: Moi? Oh no. Heaven to Betsy no. Empaths can't get visions. All I'd see or hear would be static. The powers interfere with each another.

ANGEL: Lorne mentioned that earlier today. I just assumed he told you guys as well. It's a shame to let the visions continue going to waste. But if I can't find anyone I can trust -

WES: What about Connor?

FRED: You want Angel to give the visions to Connor?

ANGEL: My son is NOT a demon.

WES: Yes, but he does have demonic powers. And he's alive.

GUNN: You think it's a good idea to have something else messin' with that kid's brain?

ANGEL: Connor doesn't need this.

WES: You just said it would be a shame for this gift to go to waste. As far as I can tell, this is the only other option.

FRED: I agree with Charles. It's too big of a risk. When things go wrong with Connor, he makes sure they go wrong for everybody.

LORNE: We've done without the visions for quite a while. [Angel gets up] Where you going, Angelfood?

ANGEL: We don't know what we're talking about. I need to speak with someone who does.

Faith, Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles sit at a table. While Willow, Xander and Giles watch Liz perform "Divorce Song," Buffy and Faith scan the crowd on the dance floor.

BUFFY: Ten o'clock. Madras shirt.

FAITH: Already spotted him.

BUFFY: Your turn.

FAITH: You sure?

BUFFY: I got the first one.

FAITH: Okay. Hey, check it out. He's going to the coatroom.

BUFFY: I think I'll take a look at this.

Buffy follows Faith so the two of them can observe what passes in their line of work for a practical joke. The vampire goes bumpy and tries to bite the woman he's with. She pushes him away, thinking that he's being a little too forward. The vampire is confounded. The woman is looking down at her cell phone, checking her messages, so she can't see how strange this man now looks. He tries to bite her again. His teeth can't penetrate her flesh. It's the darndest thing. The woman pushes him away and slaps him, calls him a creep, and walks away. The vampire goes back to his human face, looks mystified and shakes his head. Buffy and Faith stand outside the room's entrance, looking in and laughing. The vampire walks out of the room. The Slayers stand along the walls. The deeply frustrated vampire goes by them without noticing and leaves the Bronze. Faith follows. When they are outside, she grabs him from behind and hurls him into a wall.

FAITH: Let me guess. That's never happened to you before.

She hits his face with a left hook. He connects with a right cross. Faith jumps in the air and nails him in the nose with a flying right kick. He throws another right cross. This time, Faith grabs his right forearm with her left hand. She holds her stake in her right hand.

FAITH: I'm sure this hasn't happened to you either.

Faith stakes him and heads back inside. While she's gone, Spike and Anya come over to the table with their drinks. Buffy spots Mayor Santos in the balcony. Giles looks up. She takes off her coat as she looks down at the crowd while listening to "Never Said." Estella wears a black tank top and blue jeans. With some pride, Giles catches Spike and Xander staring.

GILES: It's not polite to drool.

XANDER: I was not drooling.

SPIKE: You were just partaking in some slack-jawed ogling.

XANDER: You're one to talk.

GILES: I think I'll say hello.

SPIKE: She's remarkably firm for a woman her age. Frankly, I don't think you're man enough for her, Rupert.

GILES: What do you know about being a man?

Giles leaves them and goes to meet Stella. Spike assumes he was referring to the fact that he's not human. He wasn't. Faith comes back.

FAITH: Maybe we should let the wanna-be's dust one of these chumps. Or Spike could get off his ass and earn his keep.

BUFFY: Not challenging enough?

SPIKE: I think I could give her a challenge.

FAITH: I think B would get jealous.

Angel was in Cordelia's room, asking her advice.

CORDY: I can't believe you're even considering this.

ANGEL: It's not what I want. And it's not what I plan to do. But Wesley's right about one thing: there are two options. Even if one of them is irresponsible and misguided, we should still discuss it before ruling it out.

CORDY: Connor blames you for his problems. He thinks you're the reason his life is so tough. In this case, you'd be proving him right.

ANGEL: The visions wouldn't hurt him as much as they hurt you.

CORDY: Physically, yes. But that's not the worst part. You feel their suffering, their terror. Doesn't Connor already have enough horrible memories in his head?

ANGEL: You know I would never knowingly do anything to hurt him.

CORDY: Oh no. There's a but coming.

ANGEL: You also how special he is.

CORDY: Miracle child. The one-and-only. Isn't that enough pressure?

ANGEL: Think of the advantages this would give him. A champion with a direct connection to the Powers.

CORDY: Why not? Look at what they did to me.

ANGEL: I just think the decision should be his.

CORDY: Why? What does he know about visions? To him, it'll sound like an easier way to find the bad guys. He has no idea what they feel like. None of you do.

ANGEL: So I should keep this from him?

CORDY: That's what fathers do. They look out for their kid's best interests.

ANGEL: That'll just play into Connor's suspicions of me.

CORDY: Better than screwing with his head. You know I know what I'm talking about.

ANGEL: Then one day Connor finds out I could have given him some special power, but I held back. What's he going to think then? That I didn't trust him? That I was afraid of making him more powerful than me? You know how paranoid he can get.

CORDY: But then I tell him what the visions did to me, and he'll understand.

ANGEL: Or you could tell him right now, so that he can make an informed choice.

CORDY: Fine. But you're missing the big picture. Connor doesn't want to be some planet-saving Slayer Boy who has to carry the weight of the world every day of his life. He didn't choose a painful, heroic destiny. He wants what you want – a nice, happy human life. That's why he's gone so ga-ga over Dawn.

ANGEL: Then we give him that choice, and see if you're right.

Angel interprets Cordy's comments to mean that if Connor wants the visions, it's a sign that he will be able to move past Dawn.


	7. A real Rogue Watcher comes on the scene

Wednesday. 9:30 am. LAX. A bleary-eyed man with a tanned, weather-beaten face and week-long stubble stands by the baggage carousel. He takes a cigarette out of his right jacket pocket and a wooden match of of his left. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and lights the match against the stubble underneath his chin. After taking a few drags, an airport employee politely reminds him that smoking in the airport is illegal. He glares at the pimply young man and blows two smoke rings around his head. The young man goes to get a security guard. Finally, a large chest comes around. He picks it up with two hands and walks towards the door. Someone is suppose to meet him. Someone discreet. Instead, he sees a chauffer holding up a large placard with CLAUDE MARCEL written in magic marker. Claude shakes his head and introduces himself to the driver, who takes his chest and carries it to the trunk. Claude gets in the limo and is pleased to see a bottle of cognac in the mini-bar. He doesn't usually drink this early in the morning. But on this occasion, he knows it will help calm his nerves.

By 10:00, Claude is in the lobby of Wolfram & Hart. His chest is on a cart someone from human resources so helpfully brought him. A man in a three-piece suit approaches him, smiling and with his right hand outstretched.

NIGEL: Great to see you Claude. What happen to you?

Claude eagerly shakes his hand.

CLAUDE: I spent a week sailing from Brest to Bristol. That was the only way to lose them.

NIGEL: I've heard those Bringers can be quite persistent.

CLAUDE: They weren't Bringers. They were something far worse.

NIGEL: No need to worry, Claude. You'll be safe with us. I hope you're not worried by our reputation.

CLAUDE: You mean because the Council says this place is on the wrong side? I never trusted the Council. Any you know us French. Always willing to collaborate when the going gets tough.

NIGEL: [chuckles] Delighted to have you on board, old boy.

CLAUDE: As you can see, I brought my new employers a present.

NIGEL: So it appears. Let's head up to your new offices.

Nigel takes Claude upstairs and shows him the 22nd floor.

NIGEL: I'm sure the Council never gave you an office that large. Or one with such a view.

CLAUDE: Yes. It's a breathtaking panorama of desolation.

NIGEL: I know Los Angeles is an acquired taste, but you'll adjust.

CLAUDE: Have you?

NIGEL: Not yet. It's only been four months.

They head into a large, windowless library in the center of the floor. Claude notices the oak panelling, leather chairs and large marble fireplace, which obviously is purely decorative. Someone's gone to an awful lot of trouble to create an artificial habitat for Watchers.

CLAUDE: An impressive collection. [puts chest on top of a table] And it's about to get even more impressive.

Claude opens the chest. Nigel peers inside and looks over the scores of rare volumes his old colleague has brought him.

NIGEL: Goodness. Some of these works are priceless. [flips through one book] The complete Nicephorus. I didn't know it still existed.

CLAUDE: I hope this will be enough to earn me a position.

NIGEL: More than adequate. [opens his briefcase and pulls out a contract] I hope you'll feel the same way about your compensation.

Claude looks over the contract and laughs.

CLAUDE: If I knew they would pay me this much, I would have switched sides years ago.

Nigel pats him on the back. Claude doesn't like people touching him.

NIGEL: I thought the same thing.

Claude puts the contract down on the table and pulls out a fountain pen from his left jacket pocket. He takes off the top and prepares to sign. Nigel leans over to watch. Claude shoots the pen upwards and sticks the point into Nigel's neck. Turns out the pen has a hypodermic needle inside. After injecting Nigel with a considerable amount of sedative, Claude pulls the pen out of Nigel's neck, puts the cap back on, returns the pen to his coat pocket, and looks around the room. He pulls out a shelf of books and puts them in the chest with the volumes he brought. Then Claude closes the chest, puts it back on the cart, and searches Nigel's pockets. After pulling out everything that might be useful, he leaves the room and takes the elevator back downstairs. He wears Nigel's badge on his shirt pocket, hoping the security guard in the parking garage won't look too closely and the picture. He doesn't. Claude had asked Nigel what kind of car he could afford on a Wolfram & Hart salary, and Nigel was only too eager to brag about his new wheels. This made it easy to spot Nigel's car. Claude put the chest in the back seat and drove away.

With the heist complete, Claude has a problem getting where he wants to go in a city he is entirely unfamiliar with. By noon, he has made it to his destination. Xander's crew is off on their lunch break, freeing up the lobby. Wesley takes advantage of this respite to do some research in Angel's office. Claude walks in to find the place deserted and under repairs. He worries the people he wants to meet are were gone on this day. Tired from all the carrying, Claude drops his chest on the floor. The noise causes Wesley to come out of the office. Both men look very surprised.

WES: Claude? Claude, is that you?

CLAUDE: I am the least of your surprises today, Pricey.

Wesley is suspicious. The two of them had never gotten along. Claude used to tease him for being a pompous wimp.

WES: What are you doing here?

Claude pulls down the latches and opens the lid of his chest.

CLAUDE: Giving you these. Take a look.

Claude steps away and lets Wesley thumb through the books. The treasure trove makes Wes speechless. So Claude explains.

CLAUDE: The most precious texts from the Paris library. And the creme de la creme from the London Office, liberated from Wolfram & Hart.

WES: How did you do that? How did they get them?

CLAUDE: Nigel turned. I convinced him I was going to do the same. He should be regaining consciousness within the hour. Which is why I have to leave. Now the First isn't my only enemy. I hope you and that vampire can protect these books for the time being. Is he around?

Down in the sewers, Angel and Connor fight two large, gray demons with yellow bumps all over their bodies, except for their heads, which are smooth. They have tusks which curve upwards from their lower jaw and reach nearly to their eyes. Angel and Connor subdue them and slam the demons into the wall. Angel starts choking one of them.

ANGEL: Tell me where the you took the children.

LURA: Fat chance, fangy. My boss would have my head on a platter.

ANGEL: Talk, or I'll take care of that for him.

LURA: You kill me, you'll never find them.

ANGEL: I know. Connor, kill his wife.

LURA: I'd like to see the little boy try.

Lura's wife, who has six inches and at least 100 pounds on her adversary, head-butts Connor in the nose and hits him in the mouth with her right forearm. Connor ducks under a left hook and hits her in the tusks with a left jab and a right cross. She pounds down on the top of his head with her right fist. Connor connects with a right uppercut, a left hook kick and a right roundhouse kick. Then he slams her face-first into the floor and grabs her head with his two hands, ready to snap her neck. Lura can't understand why the blow to the top of Connor's head didn't knock him unconscious.

LURA: That boy's skull's gotta be two inches thick.

ANGEL: He is stubborn. And he loves to kill demons. I'm not sure how long I can keep him from snapping your wife's neck. Maybe five seconds tops.

Connor plays along and tries to pry out her right tusk while giving Lura his best homicidal grin. Lura's wife screams. Connor laughs.

LURA: Okay okay okay. I'll tell ya what you want to know.

ANGEL: I can remember your scent. Connor, can you remember their scent?

CONNOR: I could smell it from a mile away.

ANGEL: I bet your boss can't track like that. And if we found out you're lying, they'll be scrubbing you and the missus off the walls.

WES: Angel is out on business. Your books are safe with him. I'm sure he'll be nearly as thrilled by this news as I am. Maybe not nearly. This collection. It's absolutely astounding. The complete Maratha, in the original Avestan. I thought that had vanished. But what's this - the Pergamene scrolls?

CLAUDE: From the Greek. The Pergamene codex is derived from the Latin translation, which is incomplete and therefore often misleading. Compare the texts. You'll see what I mean.

WES: This is absolutely astonishing. I'm quite familiar with the London collection, but I had no idea so many gems were in Paris.

CLAUDE: I knew you would appreciate this. Is there someplace I can shower?

WES: Certainly. Anywhere. Most of the rooms are empty.

CLAUDE: Thank you. I had a very long flight. And I haven't shaved in nine days. To pull of my job, I thought it would help to look haggard and desperate. Is that what you're doing?

Claude walks away. Wesley has never appreciated Claude's routine gibes. But in this case, he'll let it pass. As Wes looks at the books, he realizes that he possesses the best collection of prophecies, portents and demonology in the western hemisphere. It feels like the best Christmas ever. Gunn and Fred walk into the lobby and find Wes in a state of intellectual ecstasy.

GUNN: Wesley? Wesley, you there?

FRED: The one time I saw that look on a man who had his clothes on, he thought he proved general relativity.

Wesley looks up at her.

WES: To be honest, I'd take this over a Unified Field Theory any day. No one ever saved the world by learning the secrets of the universe.

FRED: Really? That means I could be the first.

GUNN: What's so special 'bout these books?

FRED: Sidonius of Poitiers. The Cumean Prophecies! Sixth-century Armorican Chronicles. Oh my God. Oh my God. Wesley, how did you get these?

GUNN: Why you two acting like you found the ultimate stash of nerd porno?

After shaving and showering, Claude stepped out of the bathroom and began to get dressed. He had his pants on, and was about to put his shirt on, when Connor entered. He looks at the stranger with great suspicion. Claude eyes the boy with some alarm.

CONNOR: Who are you?

CLAUDE: Who am I? Who are you?

CONNOR: I live here. I ask the questions.

Claude puts his shirt on and starts buttoning it. Connor watches closely to make sure he doesn't reach into his pockets for weapons. He grabs Claude's coat from off the bed and searches the pockets. He puts the jacket back down after taking out the pen. He's never seen a fountain pen, and takes off the lid.

CLAUDE: I was given permission to be here. You weren't given permission to search me.

Connor pokes at the pen's point. The hypodermic needle is hidden inside unless Connor arms the pen by twisting it. Connor still finds pen's normal point to be quite sharp.

CONNOR: You write with this, or stab people?

CLAUDE: I could do both. You could do both. Try to do it to me, and this will turn into a very bad day for you.

Connor smiles at the threat.

CONNOR: Don't need weapons to take care of you. [puts lid back on and tosses pen on the bed]

CLAUDE: I'm tougher than I look.

CONNOR: So am I.

CLAUDE: From looking at you, I'd say that's no great achievement.

Claude is provoking the wrong kid. Fortunately, he is doing so in the right building. Connor reaches out to push Claude back into the wall with his right hand. Claude grabs Connor's right wrist with his left hand and tries to twist it, but can't. Connor attempts to punch Claude in the sternum, but a barrier forms. Connor remembers the house rules. Claude deduces them and smiles.

WES: I let him take a shower upstairs. I hope you don't mind.

ANGEL: A Frenchman who doesn't like to be smelly. I don't mind that at all.

WES: Where's Connor?

ANGEL: He said he heard something upstairs. [looks worried]

WES: Oh dear.

Wesley races upstairs. Angel starts to do this, but stops after a few steps. He turns around to explain to Fred and Gunn.

ANGEL: Connor wouldn't do anything to him. He's a good guy.

GUNN: Connor?

FRED: Claude?

ANGEL: Well, both of them. There's no reason to think Connor would hurt someone on our side because of a little misunderstanding.

All three of them look alarmed.

GUNN: Wait! What about the spell? Connor can't touch him.

ANGEL: I forgot.

FRED: That's the nice thing about a sanctuary spell. It keeps the good guys from attacking each other.

CLAUDE: You said you lived here. Do you work for Angel?

CONNOR: That's none of your business.

CLAUDE: For a good guy, you're not being very forthcoming.

CONNOR: For a bad guy, you talk too much.

WES: It's okay Connor. He's with me, [gasps for air] and he's here to help us.

Connor doesn't know much about Wesley. And while he doesn't distrust Wes, he doesn't trust him either. Claude finishes buttoning his shirt and puts on his jacket. He reaches his right hand across the bed.

CLAUDE: Claude Marcel. Nice to meet you, Connor.

Connor looks at the hand for a few seconds before quickly shaking it.

CONNOR: Why didn't you tell me?

CLAUDE: There are a number of people who want me dead. I have to be careful.

WES: Go talk to Angel. He'll explain.

Connor leaves the room. Claude walks out from behind the bed towards Wesley.

CLAUDE: Maybe you can explain.

WES: I'm very sorry Claude. That was Angel's son.

CLAUDE: What? Impossible!

WES: I know it's hard to believe, but -

CLAUDE: The vampire dauphin was born 18 months ago. That boy was no enfant. An enfant terrible, perhaps.

WES: How did you know?

CLAUDE: No expert in the field could fail to notice that much vampire cult activity.

WES: The Council knows about Connor?

CLAUDE: The Council was not an expert in the field.

WES: Which field? Prophecies?

CLAUDE: Vampires.

WES: You haven't changed a bit.

CLAUDE: No. But everything around me has. Including you, it seems. Tell me how this Connor has changed so quickly.

WES: He grew up in another dimension.

CLAUDE: In the wild? Like Enkidu?

WES: Not exactly. Lebanon and Sumeria were not in different dimensions.

CLAUDE: Youre right. It's a poor analogy. [laughs] Unless Connor tried to kill Angel and then lost his virginity to a beautiful, older female friend of Angel's.

Claude has a few more chuckles before walking out of the room. Wesley takes a moment to think about Claude's "joke."

WES: But then Buffy would kill Connor after he reconciled with Angel. I hope Claude's not onto something there.

Claude comes downstairs and meets Angel, Gunn and Fred in the lobby. Connor's also there.

ANGEL: I'm sorry. My son didn't know.

CLAUDE: Its my fault. If I knew my enemies couldn't touch me in here, I would have been more forthcoming.

ANGEL: To be fair, I know that Wolfram & Hart and the First Evil are two very good reasons to be careful.

CLAUDE: So you're familiar with the law firm I stole from?

ANGEL: Far too familiar. Where are my manners. This is Winifred Burkle and Charles Gunn.

CLAUDE: Pleasure. Are you his employees?

FRED: Associates.

GUNN: Partners.

FRED: Right. Partners.

CLAUDE: All for one, one for all, I suppose. [looks Angel over] So you're the legendary Angel. I expected you to be taller. [shrugs, then notices Wes has come down. Claude rubs his now-smooth face] There is one thing I miss about my stubble. [Pulls out a match and lights it against Wesley's face. He looks outraged and grabs his cheek. Gunn laughs. Claude lights his cigarette and looks around the lobby.] What happened here?

FRED: There's a good reason it looks like the world almost ended in here. Because it did. Almost. At least that's what it seemed like.

CLAUDE: I thought those things usually happened at my next destination.

WES: You're going to Sunnydale?

CLAUDE: I should check in with Rupert. And I need to leave this city right away. By now, Nigel's probably awake. And he might have noticed I stole his auto.

FRED: Do you usually commit this much grand theft on a normal given day?

CLAUDE: Only whenever I set foot in Los Angeles.

GUNN: How many times ya been here?

CLAUDE: This is my first.

He looks over Angel's weapons, and takes one he likes. It has a curved, two foot-long blade atop a six foot-long metal shaft. He practices using it.

CLAUDE: This is a very nice gleave. What is the shaft, hollow steel with a nickel coating?

ANGEL: Aluminum.

CLAUDE: One shouldn't travel to a Hellmouth unarmed. [he twirls the shaft round between the fingers on his right hand] I'm taking this with me.

ANGEL: No you're not! That's my niginata!

CLAUDE: And that's my library. Ask Pricey who's getting the better deal.

Claude walks up the steps and opens the front door with his left hand. He holds the niginata in his left hand, the blade facing forward. At the same time, the construction crew is returning, and Xander nearly walks into the point. He stops six inches short.

XANDER: Whoa. Careful where you point that - [looks at Claude] Mister . . . I've never seen you before in my life. What are you doing with that weapon?

Claude pulls his weapon back so the point faces straight up and wrote accidentally skewer anyone.

CLAUDE: Greeting an old friend and killing a few new enemies.

XANDERS: Hey! What a coincidence. That's what I do every day!

Claude sneers and walks past Xander. He assumes the wisecracking hardhat is trying to make fun of him


	8. Getting Played, Getting Slayed

It's four in the afternoon in Sunnydale. Oscar sits on the couch, counting today's haul of treasure while watching Faces of Death III. His girlfriend Sheila lies to Oscar's right, her legs stretched across his lap. She dips strawberries in a bowl of blood before eating them.

CLAUDE: Lovely place. Horrible neighborhood. Sunnydale isn't a good town for rats like you, Cecil.

Cecil turns to his right and sees Claude. Sheila and him stand up. She goes bumpy.

SHEILA: I could use an afternoon snack. So what if you're older than I like my men.

CECIL: Settle down, baby. He's not worth it. [Sheila goes unbumpy]

CLAUDE: Right now, I'm probably worth twenty thousand American to you.

Cecil looks at the front and back doors, which are both still shut and locked.

CLAUDE: You left a window open.

CECIL: How did you find me?

CLAUDE: Oscar. He snitched for your own good. [opens the front door] See?

Cecil stands in the shadow and peers outside.

CECIL: Mercedes S-Class. Last year's model. Looks to in good condition.

CLAUDE: I'll give you it for that one.

He points at a car parked along the curb. Cecil laughs.

CECIL: Is this a joke?

CLAUDE: Why would you say that?

CECIL: Come on! An 89 Civic hatchback?

CLAUDE: Is it hot?

CECIL: Heck no! Who would bother to steal that piece of junk? But yours must be. When did you enter this line of work?

CLAUDE: When I needed a ride. Will this one get me to San Diego?

CECIL: I'm sure it can handle a few hundred miles.

CLAUDE: That's all I need. Do we have a deal?

CECIL: I love doing business with the desperate. I'll go find the keys.

CLAUDE: If you meet the owner of this automobile, feel free to kill him. And anyone working on his behalf.

CECIL: I'm digging this new attitude of yours. Be right back.

Claude and Sheila are left alone.

SHEILA: So . . . how do you know Cecil?

CLAUDE: He does me favors. In exchange, I do Cecil the favor of not killing him.

SHEILA: [laughs] Very funny. To me, looks like it's the other way around. You're only still breathing because he wants your wheels. [thinks for a second, the flashes a malevolent half-smile.] But now he's got your wheels. [she gets bumpy again and looks giddy] So you're only good for one thing.

CLAUDE: You shouldn't treat houseguests like this.

Sheila laughs and leaps for his throat. Claude puts his right hand on her chin, keeping her teeth away from his neck. Then he quickly puts his left hand on the top of her head and spins Sheila around.

CLAUDE: Eventually, one of them will bite back.

In an instant, the tables turn. Sheila's facing away from Claude, with her neck on the verge of being snapped. She gets scared and loses her fangs.

SHEILA: Settle down, cowboy. Cecil ain't gonna give you new wheels if I'm dust.

CLAUDE: I know.

Claude pushes Sheila away and spins her around. She ends up facing him from ten feet away. Sheila's impressed by Claude. She gives him one of her flirtatious half-smiles.

SHEILA: Not bad for an old geezer.

CLAUDE: Now I know what Cecil sees in you. Like him, you have brains enough to run away from fights you can't win. A strong survival instinct is a rare trait in vampires. Which makes me wonder why you're in such a dangerous town.

SHEILA: You mean the Slayers?

CLAUDE: Both. So Faith's also here. Rupert has his hands full.

SHEILA: You stay out of their way, they leave you alone.

CLAUDE: Which brings me back those poor vampire survival instincts. Thank God for them.

Claude dangles a cigarette between his lips, ignites a match against the side of his left shoe, lights the cigarette and enjoys a few puffs.

SHEILA: Hey, can I bum one?

CLAUDE: Here. Have mine.

He flicks the match at Sheila. She knocks it to the floor and stamps it out, acting like a jumpy girl who just had a tarantula tossed at her. Claude smiles.

SHEILA: Jerk.

CLAUDE: Bloodsucker.

Sheila is about to give a comeback, but realizes Claude's insult wasn't actually insulting. At least not from her point-of-view. But, maybe it was from his point-of-view. She's confused. A few seconds later Cecil comes back. Claude and him toss the keys to each other with their right hands and catch them with their left.

CECIL: Baby, did he give you any trouble?

SHEILA: Naw. We're cool. He's harmless.

CLAUDE: Thanks for being useful.

CECIL: Right back atchya.

CLAUDE: You should hope you don't see me soon.

Claude opens the door and walks out. Cecil shuts it and puts his right arm around Sheila. As they walk back to the couch, she puts her left arm around his waist and her right hand underneath his shirt, running her fingers along his chest hair.

SHEILA: Who was that guy?

CECIL: The reason we're never going to Paris.

SHEILA: What's so great about Paris anyway?

Just after sunset, Spike ventured out to meet Cecil.

CECIL: They're back. Right where I said they'd be. Take these. [he hands Spike eleven computer printouts]

SPIKE: What's all this?

CECIL: Where they will be. I figured out the pattern. But it doesn't work when there are less than six. You'll notice that as their numbers decrease, they move closer to the Hellmouth. The distance between each Reaper is proportional to the inverse of the cube root of the number of Reapers remaining.

SPIKE: I don't need the bloody arithmetic.

CECIL: You won't be needing anything more from me. I'm leaving Friday.

SPIKE: No more demons left to plunder?

CECIL: Only the ones not worth the effort. Word of advice: this town is gonna blow any day now. And your Slayer can't stop it. Sorry to bail on such a downer.

SPIKE: It's not the end of the world. And if the demons aren't happy, it can't be anything too hellish.

CECIL: Still looking on the bright side of death. Which reminds me. I'd like you to meet my new squeeze. Be right back.

Sheila's sitting shotgun in the parked El Dorado convertible, scanning the people walking by for possible victims. When Cecil comes, she bounds out, takes his hand and walks towards Spike. He looks over the maps and lights up a cigarette. He's not very interested in meeting Cecil's new urchin. But it's the polite thing to do, especially after all the free help Cecil's given him. Besides, she could be a fan. Spike looks up and sees a teenage girl with short hair wearing low-riding black jeans and a black-and-gray sleeveless shirt which comes down to just above her belly button. She smiles at Spike as she approaches him. His jaw drops and the cigarette falls from his lips. Spike stands there frozen as Sheila puts her hands on his chest, tilts her head, looks up at his eyes and puts her lips three inches from his.

SHEILA: I never got to thank you.

Spike knocks her arms down and pushes her away.

SPIKE: Don't mention it.

CECIL: You didn't tell me you knew Spike. Was he your sire!?

Sheila turns around, gives Spike a smiling backwards glance and walks back to Cecil.

SHEILA: His girlfriend was.

CECIL: You're Drusilla's! [Cecil smiles. He always carried a torch for the vampire he called a Goth Goddess.]

SHEILA: Spike just picked me up, and tied me up, and left me hanging. [turns around, pouts at Spike, and rubs up against Cecil] You disappointed me. All talk and no action. Unlike some men. [Turns her head up to look at Cecil]

CECIL: What do you say to dinner and a movie? Let's hit that drive-in off Route 96.

SHEILA: Sounds romantic. My stomach's already growling. [Cecil puts his hands on her stomach.]

CECIL: Hopefully that won't be the only part that growls. [looks over at Spike] It's been nice working with you again, Spike. Best of luck with the redemptive Slayer loving. Who knows? Maybe you can give her what Angel can't.

Sheila takes Cecil's hand and they walk back to his car. They drive away to the anthemic opening guitar chords of the Clash's "White Man at Hammersmith Palais." Spike gets over the shock of seeing one of his victims and heads for home. Cecil's intel has been good enough in the past for Spike not to bother verifying it on this occasion. He stashes the maps in the basement and takes Buffy, Faith and Giles to a spot he says is just above where a few Reapers are. He's wearing the fedora he used Monday night to behead the Reaper.

BUFFY: Why won't you take us down to where they are?

SPIKE: They're all separate. You'll kill one, the others will sense it and run away. Don't you want a bigger score?

BUFFY: I'd rather not have to fight them all at once.

SPIKE: Just three. I go down there alone, one of them sees me, he runs to join another. Maybe the other one around here shows up. Suddenly it looks like I've blundered into a trap. They attack me, I run back up here, they surface, and have to face all of us.

GILES: A rather elaborate ambush. Especially for you. And I for one would like to see if you could pull it off.

BUFFY: What if they surround you down there?

SPIKE: I'll duck.

Spike pulls off the manhole cover and jumps down into the sewer. Giles, Buffy and Faith wait in a small open field just off a dark, empty two-lane road. Buffy has her broad sword, Faith her sword-and-dagger combo, and Giles wields a bearded ax with a four foot-long handle.

BUFFY: Did you hear something?

Out of the corner of her left eye, Faith sees something shiny zooming towards her. She pulls the sword in her right hand across her body and blocks the flying fedora when it's two feet from her neck. The ping the hat's metal brim makes when it hits the sword startles Buffy and Giles. Panicked, they look in every direction, but can't see anyone. A hat comes for Giles. He ducks, but notices that the hat sliced his ax handle in half. Buffy sees the hat coming for her when it's twenty feet away. She slices downward with her heavy sword and splits the fedora in two. Three Reapers who had been lying in the tall grass stand up and walk towards their targets. Coming from three directions at once, they have Buffy, Faith and Giles surrounded. Giles realizes he's holding a two foot stick.

GILES: This is a bloody fine mess you've gotten us into, Spike.

Down below, Spike finds his Reaper. The demon takes off his hat. Spike does likewise. They throw them at the same time. The hats collide, make a small screeching noise and fall to the ground. The Reapers charges Spike, which is something he was not expecting. The Reaper pulls out his sword and makes two downward slashes for Spike's head. He weaves his head side-to-side and avoids the blade. The Reaper knocks Spike down with a left hook. Spike kicks him away and stands up. The Reaper puts away his sword and prepares to fight Spike hand-to-hand. This is even more unexpected. Spike blocks his right hook and lands a right cross, left jab and right uppercut to the Bringer's face. The demon responds with a quick left jab-right hook combination that knock Spike back a few steps. He puts Spike down with a left roundhouse kick. Spike pulls out his machete and swings for the Reaper's knees. He backs up and allows Spike to get to his feet. Spike tries to hack the demon's arms off, but he knocks the machete to the ground with a left hook kick. Spike lands a right kick to the Reaper's stomach, grabs his jacket and head butts his adversary. When he charges the Reaper, Spike gets thrown over the demon's shoulder. He stands up, dodges a right hook and connects with left and right crosses. The Reaper tries a right roundhouse. Spike ducks under the blow and sweeps the demon's left leg. Having knocked this Reaper down, Spike dashes towards the nest of another one, hoping to spring his trap. Within fifteen seconds, he realizes the Reaper he was fighting isn't chasing after him. Which means he probably chose to surface and attack Buffy. Spike realizes he's been played.

On the surface, it's three-on-three, which means Buffy and Faith are occupied with their own Reapers and can't help Giles. He drops the bottom half of his ax's wooden shaft and picks up what's left: a ten inch-wide blade on a two foot shaft. He takes the awkward, top-heavy ax in his right hand and picks up the hat the Reaper threw at him with his left hand. The Reaper brandishes his weapons. Giles flicks his left wrist as if he is about to toss the hat. This stops the Reaper fifteen feet away. Giles uses the threat of this weapon to stall for five or six seconds. The Reaper keeps his weapons high, protecting his throat. Giles seizes the opportunity and throws for the demon's right thigh. The Reaper leaps in the air and does a forward flip. Giles approaches. When the Reaper's feet hit the ground, Giles swings the ax for his face. The demon's sword and dagger block the ax blade and the weapons become entangled. As the Reaper tries to push Giles away, Rupert kicks him in the chest. After being knocked back five feet, the Reaper charges at Giles, slashing with his weapons before attempting a left roundhouse. Giles hastily backtracks, avoiding the blows but moving farther and farther away from Buffy and Faith.

Faith's Reaper plays defense. He sits back, waits for her attacks, blocks her swords with his own, steps back to avoid her kicks, and launches occasional quick roundhouse kicks when Faith gets in too close. Reapers are too quick to be killed when they don't risk going on the attack. And Faith knows if she ditches him to help out Giles, he'll take her down the moment she turns her back. It would make sense for Buffy's Reaper to use the same sort of Fabian tactics. However, he attacks aggressively. Buffy defends against his relentless charges, slashing, stabbing and kicking. Soon, she finds her opening. Buffy ducks under a left roundhouse, swerves her head away from a left-handed dagger stab for her face, blocks a right-handed sword slash for her stomach, then spins to her left and makes a two-handed sword slash for the Reaper's neck, beheading him. She sees Giles sixty feet away, in desperate straits, and rushes to his assistance. But on her first stride, before her right foot can return to the ground, Buffy gets nailed in the back by a flying right kick from the Reaper Spike left behind. She falls hard on her chin. The Reaper pulls out both his weapons, leaps at Buffy, does a forward flip and swings his sword for Buffy's right knee. Lying on her face, Buffy looks over her shoulder and moves her right leg one foot to the right. The sword cuts into the earth between her legs. If she had done the instinctive thing and rolled over to avoid the blow, her left leg would have been amputated. The Reaper stabs for Buffy's spins with the dagger in his left hand. She does a forward somersault, bringing her up to her feet and out of range of the Reaper's weapons. He charges from behind. She turns and gives him a quick right kick to the face.

Giles blocks the Reaper's repeated sword and dagger attacks with the blade of his ax, swinging twice to force the Reaper to take a step back and buy Giles a few more precious seconds until one of his Slayers can come to the rescue. Buffy's in the fight of her life. The Reaper who attacked Spike appears to be smarter than the others. His attacks are aggressive but not reckless. He anticipates every one of Buffy's counter-attacks. Furthermore, while the other Reapers only go with their blades for the torso, neck and face, he swings for the limbs. Buffy quickly realizes that throwing a kick means risking the loss of a foot. Though her sword is twice as long as the Reaper's, he compensates with footwork, always stepping back when he senses a cut or thrust. Then he blocks her sword with his and hacks at her forearms with his dagger. To be fair, the Reaper is impressed with how Buffy maximizes her tactical advantages and minimizes her disadvantages. But with the Reaper keeping her occupied by doing likewise, Buffy knows that time is running out for Giles.

Sensing his opponent's boredom, Faith's Reaper goes on the offensive to keep her from helping the Watcher. Faith backs up, parries his attacks, then forces the Reaper to backpedal until he regains the offensive and puts Faith back on her heels. They swashbuckle back and forth, slashing and stabbing and spinning and blocking with superhuman quickness. The clash of their weapons colliding can be heard about four times every second. After fifteen seconds of this rapid-fire dueling, Faith holds her ground, her sword against his sword, her dagger entangled with his. For five seconds, they try to push each other to the ground, her face only eighteen inches from his. She notices a deep stab wound on his neck, but can't remember causing it.

Frustrated by Giles's desperate and effective resistance, the Reaper swings his sword down on Rupert's head. When Giles raises his arms and blocks the blow with his ax blade, the Reaper knocks him on his back with a hard left kick to the chest. With his right foot, he kicks the ax out Rupert's hands. Giles gazes up at the demon and his gleaming blades. When the Reaper looks down at his prey, Giles notices the demon has a slash across the top of his forehead. That means he's been hurt before. This give Giles the tiniest scintilla of hope.

Furious that he had been played for a sucker, Spike surfaced and raced at top speed for Buffy. As the fighters came into view, Spike realized it was Giles who needed his help. Just when things appear hopeless for Rupert, Spike yells and goes bumpy as he leaps at the Reaper from the left. Spike tackles the demon, gets on top and starts punching him. Giles breathes a sigh of relief and slowly rises to his feet, recovering from the shock of a near-death experience.

GILES: About bloody time you showed up.

Spike lands three punches before the Reaper pushes him off and stands up. Spike reaches for his machete, then remembers he left it in the sewer. The Reaper approaches with his two weapons.

SPIKE: Bloody hell. [glances to his left as he backs up] Rupert, a hand? Or perhaps something sharper.

GILES: Of course. Because you were such a big bloody help to me.

Spike ducks under a sword slash, grabs the Reaper's left wrist when he tries to stab Spike in the stomach and gut him, then grunts as he punches the Reaper in the face with a left hook, knocking him back six feet.

SPIKE: This is no time to get petty, Rupert.

Spike blocks a right roundhouse with both hands and lands a left hook kick. Going on the offensive, Spike lunges forward and knocks the Reaper down with a mighty right hook.

GILES: Fine. Here's all I've bloody well got, thanks to you.

Giles tosses Spike his ax head. The Reaper had cut the handle down to to the nub. Spikes rolls his yellow eyes.

SPIKE: Is this your idea of a joke? I'm not cutting brushwood here, Rupert.

The Reaper stands up and strides towards Spike. He hurls the ax blade at the Reaper with with right hand and gives his exasperated battle cry as he charges at the enemy. The Reaper blocks the blade with both weapons. Spike anticipated this, and he leaps for the demon's unprotected chest. The Reaper runs right by Spike as if he didn't exist. Spike falls on his face and returns to his human appearance, looking very puzzled.

SPIKE: Must've scared the bugger away.

At the same time, Faith's Reaper turns tail and sprints away. Both Reapers flee towards the road. Faith rushes to Buffy. She sees Faith coming at her Reaper from behind. Buffy smiles and launches a full-on attack, swinging her sword to the left and the right as she walks forward. The Reaper backs away from her blade, and towards Faith. He leaps nine feet backwards in one bound, putting some distance between Buffy and himself, but also getting within Faith's range. She swings her sword for his back. The Reaper bends his knees and leaps forward. Faith whiffs, missing the demon by a fraction of a second. The Reaper sails over Buffy's head, does a forward flip to avoid her upstretched sword, and lands six feet behind her. Once his feet hit the earth, the Reaper sprints for the manhole Spike uncovered and leaps down into it. Even Buffy's impressed. The Slayers join up with Spike and Giles, and the four of them chase the two fleeing Reapers.

His car parked on the shoulder, Claude stands, holding the niginata with both hands and waiting patiently. He yells out in French at the two Reapers who race towards him. Buffy and friends stop sixty feet away.

FAITH: Who's that?

SPIKE: Whoever he is, he's bloody pissed off at those Reapers.

BUFFY: You can understand him?

SPIKE: Only the curse words.

Giles stands there, his mouth agape in stunned recognition.

GILES: I don't believe it. [smiles] Haven't changed one bit, you dirty old sod.

BUFFY: You know him?

SPIKE: Frenchy looks like he's of Watcher vintage. You take men from the Even Nancier Tribe?

BUFFY: Then why are we standing here!? We should be helping him!

Giles grabs Buffy's shoulder to hold her back.

GILES: Don't. He'd take that as an insult, and would never forgive me.

FAITH: Is he nuts? Slayers don't watch Watchers.

Giles lets go of Buffy and holds Faith back.

GILES: You don't know this man. I do.

SPIKE: I say we watch the frog fight to keep his legs. [smiles]

When the Reapers get within range, Claude holds his weapon sideways, parallel to the ground. The eight foot length of the weapon allows him to block attacks from both opponents simultaneously. He moves each end up-and-down and back-and-forth with amazing dexterity, thwarting every cut and thrust no matter how fast they are attempted. The niginata was Claude's favorite weapon. It allowed him to kill vampires from a distance, and was very efficient against multiple adversaries. But the one he owned back home had a wooden shaft, which proved problematic in a fight against sword-wielding Reapers. This was why he took Angel's all-metal weapon. After frustrating the Reapers by stymying their initial attacks, Claude goes takes the initiative. Spinning his weapon around, he jabs and slashes at his opponents, putting them on the defensive. When the Reaper to his left attacks with the sword in his right hand, Claude sees his opportunity. Blocking the sword with his blade, Claude then spins his weapon clockwise, coming at the demon's neck from his now unprotected right side. Beheading this enemy exposes Claude's own right side to attack by the Reaper on his right. Knowing this, Claude quickly spins his body around when the Reaper attacks, maneuvering behind the demon while still keeping his weapon in motion to maintain its momentum. When the Reaper turns around to face Claude, he brings his weapon downward. The blade enters the top of the skull, travels down through the face, neck and chest, and cuts the demon in half. Buffy, Faith and Spike stand forty feet behind him, the three of them made slack-jawed by the slice-and-dice. Claude turns to face them and smiles.

CLAUDE: We had a history. They chased me across Breton.

Claude walks towards them as Giles approaches his old mate.

GILES: Claude.

CLAUDE: Rupere!

GILES: This is certainly a surprise.

CLAUDE: But you know that is how I do my best work.

Claude stabs the niginata into the ground and hugs Giles. He gets a good look at Claude and notices his unusually weather-beaten face.

GILES: You didn't by any chance sail here?

CLAUDE: Only a small part of the way. It's good to see a familiar face again.

GILES: Er, Buffy, Faith, this is Claude Marcel.

CLAUDE: An honor, truly. You are my favorite kind of Slayer. The disobedient kind. The only kind which has a chance in this world.

BUFFY: I take it you're an ex-Watcher.

Claude's distracted. He stares at Spike who hangs back ten feet behind Buffy, feigning disinterest. Surely this can't be who Claude thinks it is.

NEXT: Claude dishes the dirt on Spike and Giles. Especially Giles. They've known each other since they were teenagers.


	9. The Astral King

GILES: This is certainly a surprise.

CLAUDE: But you know that is how I do my best work.

Claude stabs the niginata into the ground and hugs Giles. He gets a good look at Claude and notices his unusually weather-beaten face.

GILES: You didn't by any chance sail here?

CLAUDE: Only a small part of the way. It's good to see a familiar face again.

GILES: Er, Buffy, Faith, this is Claude Marcel.

CLAUDE: An honor, truly. You are my favorite kind of Slayer. The disobedient kind. The only kind to have a chance in this world.

BUFFY: I take it you're an ex-Watcher.

Claude's distracted. He stares at Spike who hangs back ten feet behind Buffy, feigning disinterest. Surely this can't be who Claude thinks it is.

GILES: Claude was never expelled. The Council merely made sure he never got within ten miles of a Slayer.

FAITH: So you're a rebel?

CLAUDE: Heretic was the official designation.

GILES: Claude has some unorthodox ideas about Slaying.

CLAUDE: Yes. I believe Slayers shouldn't die and vampires should. Speaking of which - [he points at Spike] William the Bloody. Two Slayers. And all three of them alive. Why is this so?

GILES: Because of Buffy's infinite patience.

BUFFY: Spike has a soul.

Claude looks at Spike and bursts out laughing.

CLAUDE: A soul? There appears to be a lot of that going around. Like some vampire social disease.

SPIKE: Rupert, this is your mate? I figured you can do better than Watcher LePue.

CLAUDE: He's still rude, even with the soul.

SPIKE: Getting called rude by a Frenchman. Well that just takes the bloody cake.

CLAUDE: You called my grandfather far worse things after he burned you with your own branding iron and set your sire's hair on fire.

GILES: Jacques did that? You never told me about this. He certainly didn't. [Giles has a hard time picturing the eighty year-old man he knew doing grievously bodily harm to Spike.]

SPIKE: Because he's making it up.

CLAUDE: Then why haven't you been to Paris in 67 years?

SPIKE: Cuz I don't care for the sodding place. Your overrated town hasn't been fun since the twenties.

CLAUDE: How long did it take her scalp and your face to heal?

SPIKE: Don't flatter your gramps. He barely touched us. And we were planning on leaving anyway.

GILES: His face? [smiles] Jacques put a red-hot iron to Spike's face?

CLAUDE: The left cheek was bubbling. William chose to protect other parts.

BUFFY: Parts? He was naked? [looks distressed when she imagines what Jacques could have done.]

SPIKE: He attacked us while we were sleeping in our bed.

CLAUDE: Which means you're lucky my grandfather didn't want to kill you. Even when you tried your best to kill him.

GILES: Was Spike the first?

CLAUDE: The fourth. But the second never to return. William is smarter than he appears.

FAITH: Why didn't he kill the vamps when he had the chance?

SPIKE: Because he never had a bloody chance. The old man told you some tall tales.

GILES: Why wasn't this in the Watchers' Diaries?

CLAUDE: Because it embarrassed you Englishmen. Which one of you would have fought these two by yourself?

SPIKE: Bollocks. He ran out into the sunlight the moment we woke up.

CLAUDE: But not before scorching your back, right shoulder and left palm. William fought very bravely until Jacques glued a cross to Drusilla's neck. I've done that move myself. If not removed in a few seconds, the cross burns through the skin, sinks into the flesh and eats its way through the entire neck withing a minute. Like hot coal through a stick of butter. Truly the most agonizing method of decapitation.

BUFFY: So sadism runs in your family?

CLAUDE: We only use cruelty strategically. William behaved gallantly. Or so my grandfather put it. Remember how you removed the cross?

SPIKE: Ripped the bugger right off.

CLAUDE: With your teeth. That is what Jacques said he saw with his one good eye. By then, you had blinded him in the other.

GILES: I thought he lost his left eye fighting for the Free French Resistance?

CLAUDE: William cost him the use of that eye. German shrapnel cost him the actual eyeball.

SPIKE: So he would've lost it anyway. Which should moot any family vendetta you might have against me.

CLAUDE: William, don't delude yourself into thinking you're worthy of vengeance.

GILES: I can't believe Grandpa Jacques never told me this delightful story.

BUFFY: Maybe he thought you were too young to hear it. I think I'm too young to hear it. [she's having problems with the image of someone taking red-hot metal to Spike's naked flesh.]

CLAUDE: Do the Slayers have other helpers? Friends, perhaps? A good Slayer needs friends.

BUFFY: Okay, that settles it. You're no Watcher.

CLAUDE: Because I'm not English?

BUFFY: That's only a small part of it. There's all your opposite-speak.

CLAUDE: The Council's only been in London for 190 years, when you stole it from us. Slayers used to be people. You Limeys, in your Ivory Towers with your Bryon and your Tennyson and your foolish romantic notions, changed all that. "Slayers must fight alone and die alone." Why can't they get help and live? "Slayers must keep their identity secret." A secret identity? What are you, Spiderman? Then there's the shameful 160 year-old tradition of making Slayers helpless on their 18th birthday.

BUFFY: 160!!?? You said it had been around for 12 centuries!

CLAUDE: Twelve centuries ago, the Council was in Baghdad. I believe the Koran frowns on human sacrifice.

FAITH: What are you talking about?

BUFFY: They took away my powers for a few days and locked me in a house with a vampire.

FAITH: Good thing I blew off training that day.

BUFFY: I can't believe you lied to me!

GILES: Buffy, I have no idea what he's talking about.

CLAUDE: Rupere has always been gullible. Remember when I tricked you into smoking banana peels? To be serious, Rupert had no way of knowing. He's a third generation Watcher. I'm ninth. That's two centuries more knowledge. We know too much. That's why the Council can't expel us. It's also why they wouldn't allow me within ten kilometers of a Slayer.

GILES: That, and your failed coup d'tet. You attempted to forcible overthrow the Elders.

CLAUDE: It was 1968. It seemed the thing to do. You also wanted to see the Old Guard go. But you were too busy practicing Better Living Through Chemistry.

SPIKE: Well, well, well. Someone's got a lost youth he doesn't want us to find out about.

FAITH: Giles was a stoner?

CLAUDE: Rupert only used hash to bring himself down from his acid trips. He believed he could achieve enlightenment with the right mix of spells and drugs. Rupert was quite the guru in the psychedelic magic scene. People came from Amsterdam, Paris, Hamburg, Stockholm just to learn from his wisdom.

SPIKE: Even when you dropped out, you were still a know-it-all. How bloody lame is that?

FAITH: It is wicked Watcher-like. Wicked tie-died Watcher-like, I suppose.

CLAUDE: They called him the Astral King. [Faith and Spike laugh]

BUFFY: There's a kingdom I never wanna visit. [and she thought mom-seducing teenage Giles was disturbing.]

GILES: Did you come here to embarrass me?

CLAUDE: Merely to show that you were always destined for leadership. But, unlike Ethan, I'm not interested in being your groveling Court Jester. [ignites a match against Rupert's stubble and lights up a cigarette. Giles grabs his face in shock and horror, much like Wesley did. Spike rather likes this little stunt] Why are you Englishmen afraid of razors? As I was about to say, Ethan contacted me a few months back. He heard about the First and was worried you had died. I told him nothing. I know you hate how much he loves pestering you.

GILES: That's impossible. Ethan was taken away three years ago by the American military.

CLAUDE: And you trusted them to handle that sort of thing? What do they know about magic?

BUFFY: This was a special unit.

CLAUDE: Which I'm sure he could easily escape from.

GILES: You may have a point there. If Spike could break out, why not Ethan? [this shows where he places Spike in terms of trustworthiness and competence]

CLAUDE: He's spent the last few years in Eastern Europe. Performs mind-altering spells to aide the Russian Mafia in their crimes. Last year, everyone in Odessa forgot who they were for a day. Chaos can be profitable.

GILES: I suppose even scoundrels have to sell out.

CLAUDE: Enough about the old days. We should discuss why I'm here in private. It was an honor meeting the two greatest Slayers of my lifetime. Don't forget to keep William on his leash.

Spike stews in his own outrage. Compared to Claude, Rupert treats him with respect.

GILES: You can go home now. We'll be heading back shortly.

CLAUDE: No. I'll be heading away.

GILES: You don't want to meet the Potential Slayers?

CLAUDE: It would be disrespectful to linger in another Watcher's territory. And I have a plane to catch home tonight. We should get down to business.

Buffy, Faith and Spike head home.

FAITH: Did he call me great?

SPIKE: Two greatest Slayers of his lifetime? Try the only two he's ever met. It's called sucking up.

FAITH: You think I'm nothin' special?

SPIKE: I don't think it mattered. If he met Xander, he'd call him "the greatest carpenter I've ever met." It's called sucking up.

BUFFY: I think you're jealous that he didn't suck up to you. Or at least respect you.

FAITH: Hell, he wasn't even afraid when he thought you were evil. That's gotta sting.

GILES: This would be the part with the bad news?

CLAUDE: Robson is dead. So are all the Seers. Hacked to pieces. He went there to save them, but he was too late. I was also too late.

GILES: I knew something was very wrong. I mentioned my fears a few months back, but the ladies assured me their protective magics would suffice.

CLAUDE: Against Bringers, perhaps. But I think Reapers have some sort of radar for power, and can hone in on it.

GILES: Meaning their magic might have made them even bigger targets.

CLAUDE: Before coming here, the Reapers took out every Watcher they could get their hands on. They were relentless, efficient, unstoppable. The only place they wouldn't go was the open sea. That's how I escaped from the two I just killed. Oleg, Misha, Hamid, Theo and Carlo are off the Greek Isles. Kwame is in the Gulf of Guinea. Esteban and Bernard are around the Galapagos. And Howard is near Fiji. The two of us and the nine of them are all that is left.

GILES: Well, that's, sobering and distressing news, to say the least. But I suppose in times like these it could always be worse.

CLAUDE: The Reapers wanted to ensure that you are alone. In this, they succeeded. No more Potential Slayers can reach you. But when you win, we can help you rebuild. I was talking to Daniel last month about you. He said he always knew you could do great things once you gave up the drugs.

GILES: Daniel? You don't mean Cohn-Bendit?

CLAUDE: What other friend would I name drop?

GILES: Daniel remembers me?

CLAUDE: How could anyone forget your interpretation of Foucoult and Franz Fanon from the perspective of demon-fighting?

GILES: My what?

CLAUDE: Except for you. You swallowed the better part of a keg that night.

GILES: Franz Fanon and demons? I must have been pissed out of my mind.

CLAUDE: He joked about how all of the old rebels are now in charge. Daniel's in parliament in Brussels. Joschka's Foreign Minister. And you, the boy who never wanted to be a Watcher, run the Council.

GILES: I beg your pardon?

CLAUDE: Don't play humble. You have both Slayers. You have all the Potential Slayers. You are the Council.

This idea makes Giles a little queasy.

GILES: Les Council, c'est moi?

CLAUDE: Oui.

GILES: Merde.

CLAUDE: [shrugs] Oui. As leader, I hope you don't mind that the other Watchers recognize me as second-in-command. Someone had to do it.

GILES: Fine. I have no problem with that. How did I become Head Watcher? Was there a vote?

CLAUDE: Don't you understand? You made yourself Head Watcher through your actions. You have problems seeing yourself as a leader.

GILES: I'm not even a leader in this town. I never have been.

CLAUDE: And when a Watcher comes along who has the Power of a Slayer, your supremacy will be threatened once again. Until then, you have no choice but to command us.

GILES: I don't command. I don't even like giving orders.

CLAUDE: I would be happy to give them for you. More importantly, you need to name a successor in case of your death. We all have. If I'm gone, Hamid takes my place.

GILES: Given the danger of the situation, I suppose that is necessary. Very well. [takes a deep breath. He's never had to plan for his own demise] If I am gone, you will succeed me as Head Watcher. Hamid will be your second-in-command. But the Slayers and the Potentials will be under Wesley's guidance. I know he is no longer a Watcher –

CLAUDE: On the other hand, he has finally become a man. I flew into Los Angeles and saw him today. He and that larger, more mature ensouled vampire are in possession of the Paris Library, as well as what I could salvage from the London Office. Nigel stole them for the bad guys. I stole them back.

GILES: I never did like him. Nigel went evil?

CLAUDE: No. Just weak.

GILES: The books should be very safe with Angel.

CLAUDE: As long as he keeps his son away from them. He struck me as the kind who destroys first and asks questions later.

GILES: Yes. That would be anyone's first impression of Connor. But I can say with a reasonable amount of confidence that he is no longer a danger to himself or others.

CLAUDE: When was he a danger?

GILES: Up until eight days ago.

CLAUDE: And to think, I almost flew direct from Paris. My week at sea was well-spent.

GILES: Things were far more chaotic back then.

CLAUDE: Sometime Rupere, you'll have to tell me all your battle stories from Sunnydale.

GILES: That could take a few months.

CLAUDE: For starters, who revived Buffy after the Master killed her? It was one of her friends, no?

GILES: How did you know about that? I thought the Council told you nothing.

CLAUDE: I read about it ten years ago in the Pergamon Scrolls.

GILES: You mean the Codex.

CLAUDE: The Codex is incomplete. The Scrolls said "The Master will fight the Slayer. The Slayer will die. The Slayer will kill the Master." Either that meant the Slayer becomes a vampire, or is revived. Obviously it was the latter.

GILES: If this is a joke, it's in very poor taste.

CLAUDE: I don't understand.

GILES: Why didn't you tell me?

CLAUDE: Because I knew she would win. And it's bad luck for the subject of a prophecy to hear it in advance. To know your own future is to curse it.

GILES: Which is easy to say when it's not your life or the life of someone you love that is in the balance.

CLAUDE: Speaking of loved ones, I saw your parents yesterday. They came to greet me at Heathrow, wish me good luck.

GILES: My parents live in Derby. That's four hours from Heathrow.

CLAUDE: Cheshire. They bought a lovely cottage along the coast. When was the last time you talked to them?

GILES: When I returned to England two summers ago. When did they move?

CLAUDE: Last summer. I spent a weekend at their new place in August.

GILES: I was in Bath then. They never even bothered to tell me. [gets red in the face] They told me they were spending August in the Balearics.

CLAUDE: They came back early. Said the islands had changed. Too many ravers.

GILES: They buy a new place, and not a word to me about it. They always did like you better.

CLAUDE: Nonsense. They're just English. Your people are nicer to friends than family. It's your way.

GILES: "Claude learned Sanskrit." "Claude's translating from Elamite to Aramaic." "Claude received the highest score on the General Examinations."

CLAUDE: And my parents were always very nice to you. Like you were the son they wish they had. Remember all that time papa spent with you that summer in Anjou?

GILES: It wasn't the same. You and your father got on great.

CLAUDE: In front of company.

GILES: You're only saying that for my sake.

CLAUDE: Fathers never understand sons. I know.

GILES: That reminds me: How are Marie and the children?

CLAUDE: She's with her parents in Toulouse until the danger passes. Louis is in his third year at the university. Studying genes, chromosomes, nucleotides. I don't understand it. Like those idiot boxes he uses to sequence them. He keeps telling me I should use them for research. Wretched fad.

GILES: I used to feel the same way.

CLAUDE: Don't tell me you've gone binary.

GILES: I don't like to use them myself. But I am happy when others use them to help me.

CLAUDE: Annette is turning into quite the young Watcher. She's learned Sumerian, Akkadian and Assyrian cuneiform. And she's beginning to translate between Hebrew, Aramaic and Arabic.

GILES: How old is she now?

CLAUDE: Eighteen. Louis is twenty-one.

GILES: Seems like only yesterday Annie was climbing trees and playing with dolls.

CLAUDE: They grow up fast. Annette's now taller than her mother. And she slays alone.

GILES: You allow that?

CLAUDE: I tried to stop her. She called me a hypocrite. Said I slay alone, and she's stronger. I didn't believe it. Then she proved it. After that, what could I say?

GILES: Sounds like your daughter's not content with the role of Watcher.

CLAUDE: Tell her that, she gets furious. Annette believes the experience makes her a better Watcher by helping her better understand what Slayers go thorough. She insists she's careful, only takes on one at a time, employs surprise, everything we would do. And as a father, I do sleep better knowing my daughter goes to discos looking for boys to kill, not to spend the night with.

GILES: It never occurred to you that she could kill a vampire to save the life of a handsome young man?

CLAUDE: I thought MDS only afflicted Slayers.

GILES: MDS?

CLAUDE: Male Damsel Syndrome.

GILES: It's a syndrome!?

CLAUDE: One endemic to our profession. Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Persians, Egyptians, Assyrians – they all allude to it. MDS was the chief argument for maintaining a secret identity. The last thing a Slayer needs is obsessed male fans following her everywhere. But the boys are drawn to the super powers. It can't work without them. Can it?

GILES: Some of the Potentials have boyfriends. Some of who were, acquired, after the girl saved the boy's life.

CLAUDE: That's very distressing. I'll need to have a talk with my daughter when I get home. Maybe we could slay together, like we used to. I still have a few more tricks I can teach her.

GILES: What have you been doing at night without Annette?

CLAUDE: Killing vampires and organizing neighborhood patrols in the suburban ghettoes, where the Algerians live.

GILES: Vampires do tend to prey on outcasts. Those whose deaths will go unnoticed by the larger community.

CLAUDE: And if they did know, the sad thing is plenty of my countrymen would cheer the vampires on.

GILES: Considering the hostile climate, aren't the locals suspicious of an outsider like yourself? Especially one who claims to be fighting supposedly imaginary creatures with alien religious symbols?

CLAUDE: It helps I know their language. Though my conversational Arabic is quite rusty. As for crosses and holy water, remember what we learned at Academy? All major and most minor faiths have magical talismans which ward off vampires. The Christian symbols are unique because they can be used by non-believers.

GILES: Which is why I forgot. I've spent my entire career among non-believers. Including yourself.

CLAUDE: I believe all religions are silly. But I also believe some are a lot less silly than others.

GILES: I trust you don't tell them that. Do they know you lived until you were twelve with your father in Algeria, all through the war?

CLAUDE: My father did not fight on the side of the colonial French.

GILES: He was with the rebels?

CLAUDE: I'm still not sure which side he was on. I believe he fought against both of them.

GILES: That is something of a tradition in your family.

CORDY: You can't do this. Do you know what you're getting yourself into?

CONNOR: I can help more people.

CORDY: At first, yeah. In the long run, once they've started to hurt your brain, you'll help fewer because the pain will make it harder to fight.

CONNOR: I'm strong enough to take it.

CORDY: It's not just the pain. You feel what they go through. It's like you're being attacked, and you're helpless to stop it.

CONNOR: Do you know what I've seen in my life? Do you know what I've felt? The visions can't be worse.

CORDY: Listen to yourself, Connor. You're the last person who deserves more pain and suffering.

CONNOR: What if someone dies because I don't take this chance? Knowing I could help, but didn't, and someone's dead cause I didn't. That would hurt.

CORDY: Guilt for the unsaved damsel. You really are like your father. [Cordy means it. And she's making a last ditch attempt at reverse psychology. Connor hates being told he's like his father.]

CONNOR: I'm not like him. I'm not guilty. I CHOOSE to help. [Cordelia gives up and decides it's best not to knock Connor off his high horse. Like everyone else, she fears attacking him will upset the delicate balance that has made Connor a willing member of Team Angel.]

CORDY: Just promise you'll tell me if it hurts. I only want what's best for you, Connor.

CONNOR: Then stop trying to change my mind. [given the nature of their past relationship, Cordelia is slipping a little too easily back into the role of concerned mother.]

As Connor heads downstairs, Wes and Fred are in Angel's office, looking over the books Claude left behind.

FRED: I had a hunch the Codex wasn't originally in Latin. What demon tongue is it?

WES: Greek.

FRED: Oh. [looks disappointed] But the Greek coulda also come from a demon language. How's it different from what we already got?

WES: Oh my. Oh dear. Oh. Oh my goodness.

FRED: [cringes] Does this one have illustrations?

WES: Compare this paragraph in the scrolls with the codex.

FRED: I'm not that good at reading Greek.

WES: I'll write out the missing part in English. [scribbles off a few sentences]

FRED: Oh mah god! It's, it's so, wow. Do other lacunae clear up like that?

WES: I believe so. It's looks to be about a fourth longer than the codex.

FRED: We should make translations. You do the scrolls. I'll do the codex. Or we could scan 'em into the computer and make a program to do it for us. Digitizing would make searches so much easier.

WES: You're right.

Angel opens the door.

ANGEL: We're ready to do the spell.

WES: In here?

ANGEL: No. But I assumed you wanted to observe and make sure we did everything right.

WES: Lorne can handle that.

ANGEL: Fred?

FRED: Good luck.

Angel's a little surprised by their complete disinterest.

ANGEL: Okay. Suit yourself.

He closes the door.

LORNE: Bookworms still busy having their little orgy?

GUNN: Having their what!?

LORNE: An orgy of information, schnookums. I was the same way when I got hold of those Streisand bootlegs. [Connor comes down] There's the boy of the moment. Shall we get this visionary show on the road?

CONNOR: Why else would I be here? [he still doesn't understand the point of rhetorical questions]

NEXT: Connor gets his first vision. But it doesn't go quite as expected.


	10. Misplaced Powers

CONNOR: I don't feel any different.

CORDY: You're not supposed to. I didn't know I had them untill I got one.

CONNOR: How often did you get them?

CORDY: It varied. Once or twice a week, on average.

Angel goes off into another room. Lorne follows him.

LORNE: I sensing mucho bad vibes about this. Most of them coming from me.

ANGEL: [worried] You think we did the spell wrong?

LORNE: It was by the book. Looked like it went off without a hitch. That's what gives me the goose flesh. Or, it would if my skin could do that sorta thing.

ANGEL: You're with Cordelia?

LORNE: I do have some idea what it's like living with a mystically charged-up noggin. And, as a rule, I'm against hurting Connor. Because he tends to hurt back.

ANGEL: Connor wants this.

LORNE: Careful what you wish for.

Giles comes home and finds the house rather empty.

FAITH: What up, Astral King?

GILES: Please don't ever use that term ever again.

ANDREW: Besides, Ripper's so much cooler. How did you get that name? Who did you, or what did you, rip?

GILES: Where is everyone?

ANYA: Willow and Xander took the greenstakes to the Bronze. I tried to stop them but, oh, who am I kidding.

BUFFY: They were gone when we got back. Where's Claude?

GILES: Heading back home. He only came to discuss Council business. And to leave a substantial portion of the Council library with Angel. Well, technically, with Wesley.

ANYA: Why don't we have them? Aren't we the ones who should have these books?

BUFFY: How does he know Angel?

GILES: He doesn't. But he is out of the battle zone, yet still close enough for us to use the books if need be.

FAITH: So what's his deal with not killing vamps?

GILES: It's an approach his grandfather invented, which has become something of a family trademark. They kill all the ordinary, run-of-the-mill vampires in town, but not the leaders. This is one reason their tactics are officially condemned by the Council. The more powerful vampires are maimed in a painful and easily visible way: the loss of an eye or hand, severe mutilation of the face, and so on. Then, the injured vampire is told to leave town and never come back. At that point, the vampire is too injured to fight, so he leaves and becomes a sort of walking advertisement. Other vampires notice what happened to him, and get the message to stay out of Paris. If the injured vampire ever returns, he is killed.

BUFFY: How could a Watcher without a Slayer be so confident that the vampire jonesing for payback won't kill him?

GILES: Vampires need to sleep. And weaker vampires are more than happy to tell Claude where the lair is for a small fee and a guarantee of protection. This is the second reason the Council objects.

BUFFY: He lets them live and feed right under his nose?

GILES: Not unless they cease feeding off human blood. It's more complex than a simple vow not to kill the enemy. With the leaders gone, all you have left are frightened minions without a master.

FAITH: So this guy becomes their Master.

ANYA: That's brilliant! Finally, a Watcher with the guts to think big. Is he also ruggedly handsome?

GILES: Yes. But Claude's also happily married.

ANDREW: A rogue agent with a family? Is it a real family, or just his cover?

GILES: Oh, bloody hell. Will you give it up already? Watchers do not lead double lives.

ANYA: Most of them don't even have one life, let alone two.

GILES: [groans] The vampires have two choices: leave town or become completely dependent upon Claude. If they choose to stay, he decides where they can live, whether they can live, how they can live. Most are allowed to scatter among the towns of northern France. If they are suspected of siring anyone, they are killed. If they engage in enough killing to draw the attention of the locals, they are killed. If they choose to live off animal blood, they are rewarded by being allowed to move to the locale of their choice.

FAITH: So the guy's running a giant vampire methadone clinic?

ANYA: Why wouldn't the vampires leave? What he does to them sounds a lot like slavery. Which is, once again, brilliant on his part. For a human to keep demons in bondage, that's like a dog keeping a man as a pet.

GILES: Many of the vampires are attached to the region. It's where they are from. They know the language. But most choose the leave. Which is the Council's third problem with the system.

BUFFY: It dumps the vamps in someone else's backyard.

GILES: Particularly London's backyard. At least since the Chunnel went into operation. But this is by design. It gives London and any other nearby metropolises an incentive to adopt Claude's methods. That's already started to happen in Barcelona, Marseilles and Milan. And I hear Amsterdam and Brussels are considering coming on board.

ANYA: Manipulating demons and humans to work his will. If I didn't think Frenchmen as a rule were gross, I'd be totally turned on by this guy.

GILES: I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Claude's methods do work on a local level. There hasn't been a tourist killed by a vampire in Paris for nearly four decades. It boasts the lowest rate of vampire attacks among any major city in the world. Claude receives a small stipend from the Council, but most of his salary comes from his "job" with the French Tourism Bureau.

ANYA: He gets paid for killing vampires. As far as Watchers go, the guy's a financial wizard.

GILES: The French don't like the idea that their streets are kept safe by a man working for and trained by a British organization.

ANYA: Profiting from his own nation's cultural chauvinism. Does this man's devious genius know no bounds?

BUFFY: What genius? The guy's just lucky. He'd be hunting vampires whether or not someone paid him to do it.

GILES: You're right. Claude's not in it for the money. His wife Marie is a surgeon. She earns most of the family's income.

ANYA: Well of course she does. Women are smarter, so they're supposed to make the money. And men, being stronger and better with tools, are supposed to fix things and look sexy and rippling while performing sweaty manual labor. That's the way nature intended it.

At the Bronze, Willow and Kennedy are dancing, while Molly, Rona, Rose, Madari and Amanda hang out or dance with their boyfriends. Xander's the only one who doesn't seem to be enjoying himself. He frantically walks around the club, them goes over to Willow.

XANDER: They're not all here!

WILLOW: What!

XANDER: Some of the girls are missing.

Willow and Kennedy look around.

KENNEDY: They're just outside. You know, to pick off vamps trying to feed.

XANDER: And you think that's safe?

KENNEDY: Sure. There's four of them. And if something goes wrong, they can always run back inside.

WILLOW: Relax, Xander. We have enough to worry about the other 22 hours of the day.

ARIELLA: Buffy must spend a lot of time waiting.

Ella, Fadila, Izora and Chao-Ahn lean against a wall in the alley outside the front door of the club. They look bored and listless.

FADILA: Three or four hours. One or two vampires. Like fishing. Except the fish try to eat you.

ARIELLA: Like fishing for sharks.

IZORA: How come vampires are all guys, but they always bite girls?

FADILA: That should produce a lot of female vampires.

ARIELLA: And if the guys like to bite girls, who's siring all the guys?

FADILA: Maybe male vampires don't like to sire. They mostly feed. And a couple female vampires do all the siring. That would be where the all the male vampires come from.

ARIELLA: So they have some sort of maternal instinct?

IZORA: Spike and Connor's father were both made by women. They taught them how to survive.

FADILA: The female vampires probably care more for their offspring.

ARIELLA: While male vampires abandon their young. So male vampires with female sires have a better chance of surviving than female male vampires with male sires.

FADILA: Natural selection at work. Among the undead. [pauses] Anyone else worry we're, like, completely losing touch with the real world?

IZORA: This is real.

ARIELLA: Sure. But only in the literal, actual sense. Our friends back home would be pretty freaked by what we've become. What we think about. What we worry about.

CHAO-AHN: Chiang-Shih. Chiang-Shih Spike. White-haired vampire. From Chinese legend.

FADILA: Spike, a Chinese legend?

ARIELLA: I don't think he's either. [Fadila, Ariella and Izora laugh. Chao-Ahn and Izora have picked up some English during their time in Sunnydale]

CHAO-AHN: In my village, elders talked about Chiang-Shih who killed Slayer during Boxer Rebellion. He ravaged province. Caused great death and suffering.

IZORA: There must be other white-haired vampires.

FADILA: I don't think Spike's strong enough to kill a Slayer.

CHAO-AHN: I know. But the Chiang-Shih was English.

FADILA: That's probably just a coincidence.

ARIELLA: Think about it: if Spike were strong enough to kill a Slayer, why would he work for one? Wouldn't she work for him?

FADILA: Or he would be fighting on his own.

IZORA: Maybe not all alone. But the leader.

ARIELLA: Right. With people doing research and magic to help him.

CHAO: That is good point. Chiang-Shih was terrifying warrior. Destroyer of villages. People begged gods to save them. His face struck fear into hearts of men. [laughs] Spike no Chiang-Shih.

The other girls join Chao-Ahn in laughing at this ridiculous notion. A few seconds later, an eighteen year-old girl walks out of the club alone.

FADILA: Check out the red shirt. The hair pulled back. Showing all that neck.

ARIELLA: In this town, she might as well be wearing a "Bite Me" sign.

Sure enough, a male vampire comes out of nowhere, pins her up against the wall, and starts biting as she starts screaming. The four girls rush over. Ariella jumps on his back and puts her hands on his forehead, pulling his face and teeth away from the girl's neck. The Star of David she wears around her neck singes his back. The vampire growls, turns around and throws Ella off of him. Fadila and Izora prop the terrified girl up and help her out of the alley. Chao-Ahn kicks the vampire in the face with her right foot. He tries a right hook, which she backs away from before nailing him in the stomach with a left kick. Ella pops him in the nose with her right elbow, then a left jab. She takes out her stake to finish him off. Suddenly, a second vampire leaps down from the roof, landing between Ella and Chao-Ahn. He sweeps out Ella's legs and hurls Chao-Ahn into the wall. At this point, Zora and Fadila return. Fadila runs at the vampire who stands over top of Ella. The vampire grabs Fadila and throws her into the wall opposite Chao-Ahn. But Ella gets up and stakes this vampire in the back after he shifts his focus to Fadila. Zora blindsides the other vampire with a right hook kick to the face. Chao-Ahn lands a left cross and right uppercut. The frustrated vampire turns to his left, grabs Zora by the neck, puts her in front of his body as a shield, then turns back to face Chao-Ahn. But he doesn't see her. Before the vampire realizes what has happened, Chao-Ahn stakes him in the back. Zora recovers her breath, turns around and gives Chao-Ahn a high five.

It's three in the morning. Wesley and Winifred are still in Angel's office, pouring over the treasure trove of texts that Claude gave them.

FRED: So you, uh, spent the weekend with Kelly?

WES: Yes.

FRED: She seems . . . nice. And not evil. Which is a very, good, thing to be. Is she still around?

WES: She left on assignment Monday morning.

FRED: So it was, like, a one-time thing?

WES: She promised to look me up when she is in the area again. I suppose we have a relationship, albeit a long-distance one where she can't contact me. Work does have a way of pulling people apart.

FRED: Work can also bring people together. [worries Wes might take that the wrong way] Ah mean, it's what brought you two together.

WES: Fred, you know how I feel about you. It's simply that, after everything that's happened -

FRED: Don't apologize. It's kinda crazy for you to even try.

WES: I didn't mean to presume that you would, or I could have, with you, ever. Forget what I said.

FRED: Sure. Like it never happened.

WES: Because it didn't. It couldn't.

FRED: Right. [long silence]

WES: I'm going to go home now. It's been a very long night.

FRED: Yeah. Me too.

They close the books and quickly head their separate ways before anything could happen these two lonely, attractive people who've spent nine hours alone in a room together. On Thursday night, Buffy and Giles plan for the evening hunt.

SPIKE: They're gone. Just like two nights ago.

BUFFY: They're taking every other night off?

GILES: Not off. Just away. They could be performing spells or ritual ceremonies in another locale. Maybe even another dimension. Or "charging" up, since they aren't natural demons. We don't know what they're up to.

FAITH: So if we can't get 'em, what do we get?

BUFFY: The girls have had a few easy nights. I'd like to get them out in the field again.

GILES: Vampires?

BUFFY: They take a lot fewer nights off. I say we hit the cemeteries.

GILES: Nothing's set to rise tonight.

BUFFY: We can still hit their crypts.

FAITH: What about the college. You ever patrol there?

BUFFY: When I went there. Though between me and the Initiative, the on-campus vampires went pretty much extinct after a few months.

FAITH: You don't think they came back? They sure were there before you became a co-ed. Used to patrol on campus all the time back in the day.

BUFFY: And by patrol do you mean going to frat parties to pick up boys?

FAITH: There's a difference?

GILES: You want to take the Potential Slayers to college?

FAITH: Thursday night. Lots of parties. I think we'll clean up.

GILES: Which sounds reasonable enough, except that every time Buffy goes to parties at that college, I have to hack a way out for her with my chainsaw.

Faith looks very confused.

BUFFY: There were a couple parties at haunted houses. But those were special circumstances, which aren't repeatable, so I don't need to bore you with the details.

GILES: I suppose your point is valid. It's not as if every party you've been to has devolved into bloody chaos.

SPIKE: Aren't they looking for bloody chaos? To prevent, of course.

GILES: It would be rather pointless to go out on patrol and find nothing to slay. Spike, if you were still a depraved, soulless, blood-sucking monster, where would you go?

SPIKE: One of those over-21 clubs Buffy never checks out. Bloke could drink them dry and get away scot-free. [Buffy looks alarmed, both at the suggestion and at the fact that Spike almost seems proud] But only because I was always the lone vampire in those joints. No competition. So, if I were not me, but a lesser, common vampire, I'd go snacking at university. 'Specially now that the Bronze is off-limits.

GILES: You're okay with this, Buffy?

BUFFY: As long as the Reapers aren't around and the girls stay together, I think they can go pretty much anywhere they want.

GILES: I'll go notify Kennedy.

He walks up the stairs. Kennedy is in Willow's bedroom. Giles knocks just to be sure they're not in the middle of anything.

WILLOW: Come in.

Giles opens the door. Willow's sitting in front of the computer. Kennedy's lying on the bed, reading a book. The computer isn't on. And the book Kennedy grabbed happens to be a book of spells. Good thing Giles knocked and gave them a chance to look like nothing was going on.

GILES: The Reapers are nowhere to be found. We've decided to head over to the university, for patrolling.

KENNEDY: You and Buffy and Faith?

GILES: And all of you.

WILLOW: You're taking ten teenage girls to a college party?

KENNEDY: What's the matter, Will? [smirks] Afraid I'll meet someone?

WILLOW: At a frat party? I Doubt it.

GILES: There's no reason you couldn't also go along. After all, you are the only one among us who actually attends the university.

WILLOW: A slay date!

KENNEDY: Potential Slay date.

WILLOW: I think I got a lot better chance than that.

GILES: We'll be leaving in, I don't know, fifteen minutes. See you downstairs.

GIles leaves them to their flirting. Downstairs, Xander, who's always had a problem with college boys, doesn't like the plan.

XANDER: They'll be so busy fending off come-ons from drunk football players that they won't even be able to get at the vampires.

FAITH: You're not getting it. The vamps will come to them.

XANDER: You want to use them as bait?

FAITH: No. They'll stake 'em. Ya know they can fight.

XANDER: As a horde, yes. They've gotten great at swarming. One-on-one, I mean, let's face it: they're not Slayers.

BUFFY: It's not like they're going to get attacked by ten vampires at once.

FAITH: And they'll have us backing them up.

BUFFY: Actually, I'm going to sit this one out.

GILES: Why?

FAITH: Yeah, B. What's up?

BUFFY: Going there will just remind me that I'm, not going there. And it's been a hectic last couple of, months. Faith can take care of them.

GILES: Are you certain about this?

BUFFY: I just think I should maybe stay home, catch up with Dawn. That sort of thing.

GILES: Oh. I suppose there's nothing wrong with that.

BUFFY: Have a good time. Kill something for me.

The Potentials, Faith, Giles and Willow head out together. Spike goes his own way, getting something to drink at a bar downtown. Xander and Anya head to their respective apartments for the evening. Andrew is off at the movies. So the Summers women have the house to themselves.

DAWN: You want to what?

BUFFY: Spend time together. You don't like me paying attention to you?

DAWN: Is that a trick question?

BUFFY: You don't have plans, do you?

DAWN: No.

BUFFY: So why can't we, you know, talk?

DAWN: Is something wrong?

BUFFY: For once, no. That's why I'm here.

DAWN: Fine. Let's go have some "quality time."

Dawn leaves her room and heads down to the living room. Buffy follows. Dawn sits down on the couch. Buffy sits next to her.

BUFFY: When did I become the uncool mom you don't want to be around?

DAWN: You're not. Buffy, we both live here. I see you all the time. There's no need to go out of the way and clear the house just so we can – what's wrong?

BUFFY: Nothing.

DAWN: I'm serious. Do you think I'm in trouble? My grades are fine. I haven't been stealing. Okay, maybe I've made Andrew do my chores. But he does everyone's chores!

BUFFY: Things have been hectic. Even more than usual. Ever since the First set up shop, I haven't been able to spend that much time with you. I regret that. And I want to make it up to you. Just because I have ten new girls to look after doesn't mean you're still not the most important thing in my life.

DAWN: It's Connor.

BUFFY: What are you talking about?

DAWN: He's the reason you're being so nice to me.

BUFFY: And in what bizarro universe does that make sense?

DAWN: I'm not stupid. I know why you think I love him. [Buffy cringes]

BUFFY: Trust me, Dawn. That's the last thing I want to know.

DAWN: The first night he was gone, you took me patrolling. Was that just a coincidence?

BUFFY: I do something nice for you, something you wanted, and you question my motives?

DAWN: I'm not questioning anything. I know your motives. They're all named Connor.

BUFFY: My only motive is that I love you.

DAWN: I know how much the two of us being together freaks you out. But he is a part of my life. And if you can't accept that, and just keep pretending he's not a part of my life, then we have a problem.

BUFFY: A part of your life? You knew him for a week! You dated for, what, three days? Or, nights. Or, whatever you two had.

DAWN: Finally, you admit it.

BUFFY: Admit what? That it bothered me when my sixteen year-old sister slept with a boy she barely knew?

DAWN: I knew that he loved me. I knew I was the only person in the world he trusted. It's not like I wasn't scared and freaked and blown away too. Everything happened so fast and got so crazy. But I don't regret anything I did.

BUFFY: I'm not saying you should. Or shouldn't. I don't have an, no, I do have an opinion. But I know it doesn't matter to you. And it shouldn't. It's your life. I just want to be a part of it.

DAWN: [outraged] You really do think I slept with Connor because no one was paying attention to me!?

BUFFY: I never said that. You're putting words in my mouth that don't even belong there.

DAWN: You didn't have to say it.

BUFFY: Why does everything have to revolve around him?

DAWN: Sorry. I forgot everything's supposed to revolve around you.

At this point, Buffy's ready to slap Dawn. But she tries to keep cool.

BUFFY: What the hell is wrong with you? [Buffy thinks it's Connor's bad influence] I try to be nice to you, and you just shoot me down.

DAWN: Look. I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean it to come out like that. The thing is, I love Connor, and all you do is pretend he doesn't exist or treat him like the enemy.

BUFFY: He did try to kill me.

DAWN: Who hasn't?

BUFFY: And he so obviously hates me.

DAWN: No he doesn't. I'm not saying he likes you. But he knows that I love you, and that you'll always be a huge part of my life, and he accepts that. Or, he's learning to. And I just wish you could do the same.

BUFFY: That's going to take time. I'm still sort of in denial that he's Angel's son. Im taking things one bombshell at a time.

DAWN: So you could accept that I love Connor and still be in denial about Angel being his father. [smirks] Wouldn't that be easier?

No, it wouldn't. Angel being Connor's father is something that can't change. Dawn being Connor's girlfriend is something that can. Buffy won't say this, since she's noticed that Dawn has a tendency to react violently when anyone questions the permanence of her overnight romance.

BUFFY: Can we just focus on the two of us for one night? No talking about boys allowed.

DAWN: Okay. Guess you're as grossed-out by my love life as I am by yours.

Buffy also let's that one slide.

BUFFY: So – how are your friends? How's, Kit?

DAWN: Good. She told me to tell you that she didn't mean to make you feel left out when she was talking to Faith. Faith's just new and, you know, a novelty. She still thinks you're the best. And if there was a monster after her, you'd still be the first person she'd want to hide behind.

BUFFY: That's me. Good old human shield Buffy.

Buffy puts her right arm around Dawn, who leans her head against Buffy's left shoulder as Buffy flips through the tv channels.

DAWN: She may be calling. About a project we're doing for Spanish.

BUFFY: You have something due tomorrow?

DAWN: No. It's due Monday. Don't worry. I've had my schoolwork under control for, quite a few months now.

BUFFY: You should. You've always been the smart one in the family. My brainy little sister.

She rubs Dawny's head. They both smile and relax. For one minute, they can put all their problems out of their minds. Then the phone rings.

DAWN: It's probably Kit.

Dawn runs upstairs and picks up the phone in her bedroom.

DAWN: Hello?

CONNOR: Hello lover.

DAWN: Connor, is something up? Something wrong?

CONNOR: No. Things are pretty boring here. They've been that way since Angel came back. How bout you?

DAWN: More of those Reapers. That's all. So are you and your father getting along?

CONNOR: Yeah. He's been real big on spending time together. Patrolling. Training. Telling me stories about demons he fought. Talking about books. Had to make up some excuse about looking up some poem by Boudillaire to sneak away and call you.

DAWN: He does those things because he loves you.

CONNOR: And he wants me to be like him.

DAWN: No he doesn't. He knows you're one-of-a-kind. He just wants to make up for lost time. Are you getting along with everyone else?

CONNOR: Not sure. They still act funny around me. I don't think they trust me.

DAWN: Can you blame them?

CONNOR: It's not like I meant to hurt them. And I've done a lot of stuff to help them. Just seems like it's never enough.

DAWN: Don't worry. You're a great guy. With a great heart. They'll see that. They'll see the man I love.

CONNOR: Maybe you could explain that to them. I'd really like that.

DAWN: You mean you'd like seeing me?

CONNOR: Two birds, one stone.

DAWN: I miss you, too. You know that.

CONNOR: Sometimes. when I'm alone, or even when I'm not, I feel lost without you around. You help me make sense of things.

DAWN: I'm not the only one who can do that for you. Give your dad a chance. And give his friends a chance. They know a lot more about the world than I do.

CONNOR: That's not what I meant. I'm feel like something's missing without you.

DAWN: So do I. All the time. When I go sleep. When I'm at school, at my locker at the end of the day, and I wish you could be there to sweep me off my feet. When I'm, I'm, in MacArthur Park? What was that from?

CONNOR: What was what?

DAWN: I went there once or twice, back when I lived in LA. But not at night. And who were those two people? Sorry Connor. I think I need to get some sleep.

CONNOR: You saw something in Los Angeles? What did you see?

DAWN: I didn't "see" anything.

CONNOR: Who were the two people?

DAWN: I don't know. Just a boy and a girl. Our age. Brown hair. Never seen them before in my life. I didn't mean to flake like this. Between school and researching the First and deciphering hieroglyphic heads -

CONNOR: I need to go. My dad wants to patrol.

DAWN: Sure. Good.

CONNOR: I just wanted to call to tell you how much I love you. I really, really love you.

DAWN: I know. And you know I feel the same way.

CONNOR: And I would never, never do anything to hurt you. Ever.

DAWN: Of course you wouldn't. You don't need to get so mushy all the time. Not that I'm complaining. You're the best.

CONNOR: So are you.

DAWN: [giggles] Goodbye lover.

Dawn hangs up the phone and sighs. Connor was always such a prince. She knew at some point she'd get sick of his doting. But not yet. It was nice to be needed. Dawn goes back downstairs and slouches on the couch next to Buffy.

BUFFY: Done with Kit?

DAWN: Oh. Kit. Yeah. All done. Thanks.

BUFFY: For what?

DAWN: For this. Wanna go make some popcorn?

Talking to Connor about Angel reminded Dawn of the importance of family. If Connor shouldn't question Angel's motives, why should she question Buffy's? Meanwhile, at the Hyperion, Connor rushes into the half-repaired lobby.

CONNOR: We need to go. Now.

ANGEL: Did you have a vision? What did you see?

CONNOR: I'll explain on the way.

FRED: Do you need any backup?

CONNOR: No.

Connor walks out the door. Angel follows.

Lorne comes up from the basement.

LORNE: What's all the hubbub?

FRED: Connor had a vision.

LORNE: Of what?

FRED: Wouldn't say. No talking. No drawing. Did Cordy explain to him how this is supposed to work?


	11. Boy Meets Vision

Angel and Connor leap out of Angel's convertible and rush into the park.

ANGEL: What was it?

CONNOR: A boy and a girl.

ANGEL: I meant the monster.

CONNOR: There was no monster. Just the kids. Here.

ANGEL: What time?

CONNOR: I don't know. It was nighttime.

ANGEL: The Powers didn't give you a lot to go on. They do that sometimes. Hear anything?

In another part of the park, a short, skinny boy with black hair walks quickly. A tall, thin brunette rushes after him, a latte in her right hand.

RORY: Jess, stop! Why are you running away? Right. That's what you do when it comes to me.

JESS: You're making things harder.

RORY: But not treating you like dirt, even though that's how you've been treating me?

JESS: What happened to Europe?

RORY: We're going. In like a week-and-a-half. But my mom had some frequent flyer miles left over, and I thought, why not see the left coast? It's not like I came all this way to see you. We've already been to San Francisco and Seattle. I just assumed, if I was in LA at the same time you were in LA, it would be rude of me not to drop by. Rude like standing someone up for the prom and leaving town without even a warning, as if no one there gave a damn about you.

Jess stops and turns around to face Rory.

JESS: Is was the easiest way for both of us.

RORY: What! You thought you'd hurt my feelings more by being nice?

JESS: I didn't want you to miss me.

RORY: Don't try to tell me you did this for my own good.

JESS: Our lives are going in two directions. You know that. I'd just hold you back.

RORY: Do you even love me?

JESS: Does that matter now?

RORY: I guess it wouldn't, if you didn't.

JESS: I do.

RORY: Then what if you never saw me again? Wouldn't you regret how you ended things?

JESS: I knew that wouldn't be the last time I saw you.

RORY: How? You can't know that. Things happen. Unexpected things you can't plan for.

Two vampires jump the teenagers. The latte flies onto the grass bordering the concrete path they are standing on. Rory screams. Connor and Angel rush toward the noises. The vampires knock Rory and Jess on their backs and get on top. Jess puts his hands to the vampire's face and tries to push him away. The vampire punches him in the face. The other vampire pins down Rory's arms and bites into the right side of her neck. She screams again. Connor grabs the vampire from behind, lifts him off Rory and hurls him twenty feet backwards through the air. Connor then kicks the other vampire in the ribs, causing him to roll off of Jess. Connor leaps over Jess and knocks the vampire down with a flying right hook kick. That vampire runs away. Angel gives chase. Connor turns to his left and sees the other vampire charging at Rory. Connor leaps fifteen feet through the air and knocks down the vampire with a flying left kick. Jess saw this. It looked to him like Connor had a vertical leap of five or six feet. Jess is very disoriented. Nothing that's happened in the last ten seconds even remotely begins to make sense. Rory is still in shock. She saw the vampire fly off of her, as if he were being sucked out a hole in an airplane. She sees this blur leap back and forth and appear to hit things. Her bite still hurts. All she can think is "this is way too Matrix-y to really be happening." The vampire gets up and throws a right hook. Connor blocks the punch and lands a right cross. The vampire connects with a left jab. Connor stuns him with a left uppercut and right cross. Then Connor grabs him with both hands and hurls the vampire back into a park bench, breaking the bench. The vampire quickly gets up and runs away. Connor leaps in the air, lands on his back, takes the vampire down and stakes him. He then walks back to Rory. She sees this slightly-built boy standing over her, reaching out his right hand.

CONNOR: Are you okay?

RORY: Huh?

CONNOR: I'm sorry. I should have been here sooner. How bad did he hurt you?

RORY: What was that? What are you?

Connor takes her right hand in his right hand and pulls Rory up to her feet.

CONNOR: I'm Connor.

Rory catches her breath.

RORY: I'm Rory. [Still overwhelmed by the experience, Rory's knees buckle. Connor puts his right arm under her left shoulder and props her up. She turns to her left and gazes at Connor.] Thanks.

CONNOR: No problem.

To Rory's right, Jess gets himself up off the ground. He looks to his left and sees this boy with his around his former/not-quite-former girlfriend. He then puts his left hand to his left cheek and gets blood on his palm.

JESS: I think I'm hurt.

Connor goes over and looks at him.

CONNOR: You'll be okay.

Rory puts her left hand to her bite mark, looks at the blood, and becomes a little weak-kneed again. Connor rushes over, puts his hands under her shoulders and props her up. For a second, their lips are six inches apart. Connor moves his head back. After a few seconds he lets go. Angel has killed the other vampire. He watches from a distance and smiles. Looks to him like his son's found a nice damsel.

RORY: Ow. It bit me. Or he bit me. What was that?

CONNOR: Don't worry. You're safe now. I took care of it.

RORY: And by take care of, you mean you – I mean, you mean, I probably don't wanna know what you mean. [Rory's syntax puts Connor's mind in a temporarily linguistic loop. So he doesn't respond.]

JESS: What was wrong with their faces and eyes?

CONNOR: You two new in town?

RORY: Umm, I'm just visiting. I live in Connecticut. Jess used to live with me. I mean, we lived in the same town. He came here last month.

CONNOR: Family stuff? [Connor doesn't know not to pry. But Jess doesn't care.]

JESS: I came here to find my father. [Connor smiles, a little surprised. Angel, who's eavesdropping from a distance, is intrigued. But he thinks Connor should be focusing more on the girl]

CONNOR: That's why I came here last year.

RORY: Well, isn't this getting eerily interesting. So how old are you, Connor?

CONNOR: Eighteen.

RORY: Huh. Same as us. Did you grow up with your mom? Or, uh, uncle?

CONNOR: My mom died when I was born. I don't have any uncles. [Spike might be a symbolic uncle, but Connor's too literal to think anything like that]

RORY: Oh. I'm sorry.

CONNOR: Why? Not your fault. [Rory just shakes her head. This strange boy keeps getting stranger and stranger] I was with my stepdad. Until he died.

JESS: I'm just curious, why were you here at just the right time?

CONNOR: I help people in trouble. Especially at night. My dad does too. Where is he? [looks around. Angel wants to give Connor a little more time to make nice with the pretty girl who isn't related to Angel's ex. But he worries that Connor is losing momentum.]

RORY: Then that would make you, a vigilante?

CONNOR: Is that like a champion?

Rory's confused. Connor and she are operating on completely different wavelengths.

JESS: Thanks, anyway, for saving us from, whatever that was.

CONNOR: No problem. It's what I do.

RORY: A couple months ago I read an article in the Times about William Bratton where they mentioned how undermanned the LAPD was. I had no idea things were so bad that citizens have to do-it-themselves. Budget cuts really do have an effect.

Now Connor's confused. Times? Bratton? Budget? He only understands about half of what she says.

CONNOR: You must be smart. You know, good with books.

RORY: I suppose.

CONNOR: I like girls who are smart.

RORY: Oh. Thanks.

Rory smiles and blushes. Connor grins. They stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Angel thinks his son is finally making his move. So does Jess. He begins to wonder if this "attack" wasn't just some sick sort of ruse to pick up chicks. Rory's heart races. Her journalistic instincts tell her that there has to be a great story behind this very odd boy. Plus, Connor was kinda cute, and lifesaving, and sweet, which are all attractive traits. The fact that he didn't look like a hero only added to Connor's appeal and Rory's curiosity. She gazes into his soft blue eyes, trying to figure out what to ask next. But her mother walks up and breaks the silence. She is holding two lattes.

LORELAI: You drank the whole thing already? Good thing I got you a second. [sees Rory's neck. Drops both lattes. Connor steps forward with superhuman quickness and catches them before they hit the ground] What happened? [sees Connor holding the lattes she dropped] Who are you?

RORY: This is Connor. We were, like, mugged or something. I think. And he, well, Connor saved us.

LORELAI: Oh my God. Are you alright? Did they take anything? What happened to your neck? Were you stabbed?

RORY: Something like that. They didn't get anything.

LORELAI: Thank God you're alright. Connor, thanks for saving my first-born. [tries to make light of it all, since she doesn't understand any of this] And our lattes. They were four-fifty a pop. [pauses when Connor doesn't laugh] Are you some sort of vigilante? That a gun under your belt?

CONNOR: Gun? No. I've never. It's a [pulls it out for a second] stake.

LORELAI: And that's what you used against the muggers?

CONNOR: Yeah. It gets the job done.

LORELAI: I had no idea how loopy this town really was.

RORY: I was just saying the same thing.

Angel knew Connor couldn't do much scoring with mommy around. And he worried Connor might scare the civilians by saying something crazy like vampires are real. Besides, mommy looked rather fetching, and perhaps what Connor needed was some backup. He moved towards them quickly and quietly. To Rory, Lorelai and Jess, it was as if Angel popped up out of nowhere. He smiles at Lorelai. She smiles back.

LORELAI: Hel-lo. And you would be?

CONNOR: [scowls, thinking he's dad's stealing his limelight] My dad.

ANGEL: Angel.

LORELAI: Lorelai Gilmore. [shakes his hand] Is Angel your first name or your last name?

ANGEL: It's just Angel.

LORELAI: Oh. How very diva of you.

CONNOR: This is Rory and Jess.

Angel shakes Jess's hand. Black pants, black shirt, black leather jacket, black hair swept back and slightly upward. A book in his back pocket. Angel liked this kid already. Angel smells Rory's blood and gets a good close-up view of her wound. He looks away. She's just the type of doe-eyed virginal waif Angelus would love to do really horrible things to. He pulls out a handkerchief he carries for just this sort of uncomfortable hero-damsel interaction.

ANGEL: Take this. For your neck.

RORY: Thanks.

JESS: I'm also bleeding.

ANGEL: Sorry kid. It's my only one. [looks at Rory and Lorelai] You must be Rory's older sister.

LORELAI: Completely unoriginal, yet strangely I never tire of hearing it.

RORY: I do.

LORELAI: In fairness, you look much too young to be the father of someone his age.

Angel gets a little nervous. He knows that this will become more and more of an issue as Connor gets older.

ANGEL: Yeah, well, they grow up so fast. A lot faster than their parents.

RORY: Tell me about it.

LORELAI: You've probably had the same parenting issues with Connor that I had with Rory.

ANGEL: I sincerely hope not. For your sake, and for hers.

LORELAI: That's cute. But you know what I'm talking about. At sixteen, they wish you were dead.

ANGEL: And when they're seventeen, they try to that a reality.

LORELAI: He-heh-heh. You are very funny for such a serious-looking fella.

ANGEL: You think I was joking? [she laughs again. Angel also laughs. It is funny how this woman, or any parent, could think she could relate to what he's been through with Connor.]

LORELAI: Having a name like "Just Angel" has to limit your career possibilities. It's hard to be "Doctor Angel" or "Congressman Angel." I hear Angel, I'm thinking pop star or hairdresser. Neither of which would explain why you and your son are here.

ANGEL: I'm a private investigator. I help people. Do you live in the area?

LORELAI: We're just visiting. Except for him. He stays.

Angel infers from the mother's dismissive tone that he must be Rory's boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend judging by all the attention Rory paid to Connor.

ANGEL: Whereabouts?

JESS: Venice Beach.

ANGEL: I live downtown.

JESS: People live downtown?

ANGEL: No. But I do. I have done some work in your neighborhood. Strange things lurking under the piers.

JESS: Don't like the beach. Or the sun. Which sounds stupid coming from someone who lives in LA.

ANGEL: No it doesn't. I'm not much for fun-in-the-sun myself. Here's my card. [hands it to Jess, then hands one to Lorelai.] And here you go. In case you have friends in the area. Always helpful to put out the word.

LORELAI: Hey, I know all about the importance of word-of-mouth advertising. I run a hotel.

CONNOR: You run a hotel? We live in a hotel.

ANGEL: It was a hotel. We don't use it as one. Guests would get in the way of our business.

LORELAI: Why do I get the sense that you're just all kinds of levels of odd?

CONNOR: Trust me, you have no idea.

JESS: [looks at the card] "We help the helpless?" Strange motto.

RORY: Wouldn't your customers find that demeaning?

ANGEL: We're not exactly your standard private detective agency.

LORELAI: [sarcastic] Gosh. I never would have guessed that.

ANGEL: By the time people come to me, they tend to be at the end of their rope. We handle very, unique, situations.

LORELAI: A niche business. In a niche I probably didn't know existed. And, probably didn't want to know. Rory, how's your neck? [she lifts the handkerchief for a moment] What were you stabbed with?

RORY: It's more of a question of "Who was I stabbed with?" [Lorelai looks perplexed] I'll try to explain later. Right now, I have a strong urge to go straight back to the hotel and hide under the covers. Thanks, [smiles] Connor, for, you know, being in the right place at the right time when were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

JESS: Yeah. Thanks. [he's just as shaken as Rory but less trusting of Connor] Now I know why my dad never leaves the beach.

LORELAI: How often do you do this thing where you save people from very weird muggings?

ANGEL: Almost every night.

LORELAI: Wow. [looks worried by the implication that this happens all the time] Yet another reason why I'd take New York over LA any day. Nice meeting you, Angel. Here's hoping we never meet again.

ANGEL: I get that a lot.

Lorelai smiles and walks away, with Rory on her left and Jess to Rory's left. When they're thirty feet away, Rory looks over her right shoulder and smiles at Connor.

ANGEL: Rory seems like a very nice girl. And I think she likes you.

CONNOR: I think her mother likes you. She's not too young for you, which would be nice for a change.

RORY: Is it just me, or was that Angel guy totally coming on to you?

LORELAI: It was flattering. Lets me know I still got it. But he's not my type. I don't go for the whole Tall, Dark and Handsome Mystery Man thing. And I don't like dating men whose clothes cost more than mine.

RORY: Connor looked a lot grungier. But they both had that enigmatic intensity thing going on.

JESS: What kind of a name is Angel?

Angel and Connor walk towards their car.

ANGEL: Rory's a very pretty girl.

CONNOR: I thought you liked blondes?

ANGEL: And she was definitely taken with you.

CONNOR: Because I saved her life.

Angel leaps into the driver's seat. Connor leaps into the front passenger seat.

ANGEL: Maybe there's a reason the Powers wanted you to meet her. They don't just put any young damsel in your first vision.

CONNOR: Dad, there's something you should know about the visions.

Now they are back home. If he were human, Angel would be red-faced with veins popping out of his forehead by this point.

ANGEL: You gave Dawn your visions!!

CONNOR: How could I do that?

FRED: Oh no.

ANGEL: How could you be so selfish and irresponsible!?

CONNOR: I didn't do anything. I swear!

ANGEL: Someone gave her those visions. Someone who wants her around. Did you even consider how this will effect her!?

CONNOR: This is crazy! What do I know about magic?

FRED: Can you Kam-Shak retroactively?

CONNOR: See! I don't even know what you're talking about. What's a Kam-Shak?

Fred, Lorne and Cordy look nervous and stay quiet.

ANGEL: You're don't need to know that.

CONNOR: That's my point! I don't KNOW anything! So how could I DO anything? This isn't my fault. It can't be. [points at Angel] You're the one who gave her the visions. So don't blame me for your own mistake.

Connor runs off.

CORDY: Buffy is going to kill you.

ANGEL: The spell worked. I gave Connor the visions. I did nothing wrong.

CORDY: Buffy is going to kill you.

ANGEL: How could I possibly know that Connor would do this?

CORDY: Oh, she'll kill him too. But you're the one she trusted. And you set these visions loose.

FRED: Won't she know Angel would never have done this?

CORDY: Yes. And that will just make it worse. It's a betrayal of trust.

LORNE: I'm with Freddie. Angel-pie can't be held responsible.

CORDY: True. If you look at it rationally. Which Buffy won't. Remember what happened the last time she got mad at you?

Buffy and Dawn are sitting on the couch, eating ice cream and watching an old movie when the phone rings. Buffy, thinking it's Giles and that there's trouble, jumps up and gets it.

BUFFY: Hello?

CONNOR: Oh. Hello Buffy. Is Dawn there? [Buffy scowls and looks at her sister]

BUFFY: Connor. [Dawn runs upstairs. Connor decides to try soothing small talk while he waits for Dawn to pick up. He also worries about Buffy's wrath.]

CONNOR: You're a hero. You do great things. And Dawn's always saying what a great big sister you are. I just wanted to tell you. I mean, we, we've had our problems. But that's past. And I'm sorry for trying to hurt you. That was stupid and wrong and, I've changed. I, um, wanted to tell you that.

BUFFY: Okay. [looks very puzzled and a little annoyed] If that's what's on your mind.

DAWN: Connor? [Buffy hangs up and walks back to the couch, shaking her head.]

BUFFY: I still can't believe that's Angel's son. Does the gene for coolness skip a generation?

CONNOR: You know that thing you saw? The people in the park?

DAWN: Yeah. But it was nothing. You don't have to worry about me.

CONNOR: They were attacked by vampires. And I saved them because you told me where they would be.

DAWN: I'm not following.

CONNOR: You had a vision. Of the future.

DAWN: Like a prophecy? I don't get those. Buffy does. And only when she's sleeping. You're not making any sense.

CONNOR: Cordy used to have visions. She told them to Angel, and he went and saved people. She can't have them anymore. So last night Angel tried to give them to me. But you got 'em. I don't know how. I swear, I had nothing to do with this. I would never hurt you.

DAWN: Are you trying to tell me that I have superpowers?

CONNOR: This wasn't supposed to happen. Regular people can't get them. It really hurts and causes headaches and stuff. We'll fix this. You'll be better real fast. I promise.

DAWN: It didn't hurt.

CONNOR: What did it feel like?

DAWN: Like, for a second, I was out of my body and at the place where they were. Then it was over. No pain. No headaches.

CONNOR: Are you sure?

DAWN: Connor, I think I know what I feel inside my own body.

CONNOR: I'm sorry. This is all a big shock.

DAWN: You're telling me.

CONNOR: I never wanted this to happen.

DAWN: Why do you keep apologizing? You didn't do anything. And you're acting like something is wrong with me. I don't feel wrong. I don't even feel different.

CONNOR: If it hurts, even a little, please tell me.

DAWN: Sure. What if I have another, what did you call them?

CONNOR: A vision.

DAWN: Should I call you if I have another vision, to tell you what it was?

CONNOR: Okay. But also tell me how it felt. How you feel. I hate thinking you could suffer because of me.

DAWN: Connor, relax. It's my thing. If I don't like it, I'll get rid of it.

CONNOR: My dad's friends are gonna figure out how this could happen.

DAWN: Then let them do that. I'll be okay. It's not like this is the biggest shock of my life. Seems like this vision thing is hurting you more than me.

CONNOR: Let's hope. Dawn, I love you.

DAWN: I know. Still like hearing it, though. Love you too. And Connor? One more thing.

CONNOR: What?

DAWN: I can take care of myself.

CONNOR: I know.

Wesley enters the hotel, looking worried and slightly manic. He's the one who gave Angel the spell, after all.

WES: Everyone remain calm, and we'll sort this out before Buffy has all our heads on a platter.

FRED: Why are ya'al making her sound like some psycho?

WES: We're not. But she's very protective of her sister.

LORNE: If that was the case, then Connor's head would have been on a platter last week.

ANGEL: Wesley, do you have any idea how this could have happened?

WES: The spell worked. And even if it didn't, there is no way it could have transferred the visions to someone 90 miles away.

GUNN: So Connor did the, [winces] transferring?

WES: Not unless he snuck out of here last night, stole Angel's car, drove to Sunnydale, snuck into Buffy's house without anyone of the twenty people who live there noticing . . .

ANGEL: My car went nowhere last night. The mileage hadn't change.

FRED: Which knocks down the least far-fetched part of that theory.

ANGEL: Is there a way Connor could have "willed" the visions to her?

WES: If he were a wizard, perhaps.

LORNE: Once again, we're stuck with no way to explain the impossible.

ANGEL: We will figure this out. Lorne, talk to anyone you know who has mystical knowledge we don't. Wes, figure out how to remove the visions from Dawn.

WES: Without Buffy finding out?

ANGEL: If at all possible.

CORDY: And in the meantime, all we have to worry about is Dawn's head exploding.

CONNOR: It didn't hurt. [everyone turns and sees that Connor has returned] She said it didn't hurt at all. Not even a headache.

CORDY: Well of course she's putting up a brave front.

Connor looks at Cordelia as if he wants to tear her limb-from-limb. She's never seen this expression of calm, determined malice on Connor's face.

CONNOR: Dawn would never lie to me.

CORDY: I'm not saying she lied. Nosiree. Okay, Connor? [he relaxes slightly. she breathes a sigh of relief]

WES: Does anyone else in Sunnydale know about this?

CONNOR: No. And they won't.

FRED: Because you told her not to say anything?

CONNOR: Because they never pay attention to her.

After hanging up the phone, Dawn sits on her bed for thirty seconds, taking deep breaths and trying to grapple with what Connor told her. On the one hand, it's certainly scary to know something can get inside of her head and take control of her mind, even if only for a few seconds. But on the other hand, she saved two lives tonight. Two people would be dead if it wasn't for her. And she had a super power. One which could help the world, not cause its destruction. So Dawn smiled for a couple seconds. Then she walks back downstairs and sits on the couch next to Buffy.

DAWN: Hey.

BUFFY: What did he want?

DAWN: Nothing. Just to, um, hear my voice, I guess. And tell me he loved me.

BUFFY: He was strangely polite when I answered. I think Angel's a good influence on him.


	12. Always the Girl

At the house where the party is, Ariella and Fadila play pool. Amanda talks to a harmless-looking freshman. Molly and Rose fend off advances from inebriated upperclassmen. They don't want to waste their time with obnoxious guys who don't bite. Willow and Kennedy are sitting on a couch, talking. Rona and Madari head downstairs with Faith to check out the tap room and make sure they're aren't any bloodsuckers in the basement. Izora and Chao-Ahn walk around, trying to spot anything suspicious in the crowded place. Meanwhile, Giles was having trouble getting in the door. The vampires might not need an invite to enter. But he does.

DOORMAN: I can't let you in without a pass. [Three young men walk by him]

GILES: Nonsense. Those people didn't have passes.

DOORMAN: They had school id's.

GILES: They didn't show you anything. And I happen to know you've let people in without either. Because they came here with me.

DOORMAN: Sorry pops.

GILES: Look. If I came here alone, your position would be perfectly understandable and acceptable. But I'm here with many other people, and to separate them from me is not only capricious, but dangerous.

DOORMAN: What are you, those girls' chaperone?

GILES: Well, no. They're perfectly capable of fending off your clumsy attempts to ply them with liquor and take advantage of them.

DOORMAN: If that's what you think we're like, why did you even bring them here?

GILES: A valid question, but entirely irrelevant to the matter at hand. I'll put it to you this way: Let me walk through that door, and you won't suffer the humiliation of being publicly thrashed by a man twice your age.

DOORMAN: [laughs] Are you threatening me, old man?

GILES: No. Just giving you fair warning.

After Faith came back upstairs, she looked outside and noticed Giles was having problems entering. She walks out the door, grabs his arm and looks at the doorman.

FAITH: It's okay. He's with me.

Faith pulls Giles into the hallway. The doorman cringes and shakes his head.

DOORMAN: A hottie like that, dating her professor. Damn shame.

GILES: Faith, thank you, but I don't think this was a very good idea.

FAITH: What's the matter? Girls seem to be doing fine.

GILES: Not them. Me. You and Willow can look after them. I'll come by to pick you up round midnight.

FAITH: Oh. I get it. You wanna fit in some time with your lady friend. Can't say I blame ya. Sounds a lot more fun than playing chaperone.

GILES: I was planning on heading home to continue my research.

FAITH: Midnight's like 90 minutes from now. Make it one a.m. That way you can take your time, make it worth her while.

GILES: For the last time, I am going home.

FAITH: Twelve thirty. The parties really don't get going 'till midnight. No use leaving before the vamps show.

GILES: Very well. Half past midnight.

FAITH: Good luck with your "research."

Faith winks. Giles heads out. Faith goes back downstairs. On the first floor, Izora watches a tall, thin man. He doesn't talk to anyone. What's more, unlike virtually all the other young men at the party, he doesn't have a beer in his hand. Add to that his pale complexion and cold, distant stare, and Zora thinks she has a winner. The man walks up the stairs to the second floor. Zora follows. She takes off her prayer bead necklace and wraps it around her right hand. He continues up, then walks down the third floor hallway, listening for noise. He passes all the empty rooms and stops in front of a door at the end of the hallway. He goes fangy and kicks open the locked door. The young man and woman on the bed turn to see the vampire. The woman shrieks. The vampire leaps on the bed, pushes the man off the bed and pins the woman down. She screams for help. Zora runs in and places her right hand on the back of the vampire's neck. Smoke rises up from his flesh. The vampire growls, gets off the woman, turns around and tries to hit Zora with the back of his right hand. She ducks and hits him in the left cheek with a right hook, leaving behind a red, blistering wound. The vampire puts his left hand to the painful injury. Zora quickly hits him with a right jab to the mouth. He screams in agony and charges her. Zora rushes backwards, grabs his arms, and pushes the disoriented vampire to her left. He slams into the student's dresser and turns around. Zora stakes him with her left hand, then turns to her right to look at people she just saved. The girl sits in her bed, shaking and terrified, holding the sheet up to cover herself. The boy stands to her left. He's managed to pull his boxers up, but his pants are still around his ankles. Naturally, neither of them can make sense of the strange-looking disappearing attacker. All they know is there's a girl they don't know in the room whom they certainly did not invite in.

GIRL: Get out!

GUY: Yeah. Get lost, weirdo.

Zora is struck by the complete and utter lack of gratitude.

IZORA: You're welcome.

She walks out and heads back downstairs, with a new appreciation of what Buffy must go through while protecting a clueless and occasionally hostile public.

Giles sits next to Stella on her couch. She's watching the local news.

GILES: I hope I'm not imposing, coming over here, unannounced, at such a late hour.

ESTELLA: No. I'm glad you imposed. I would've dropped by, unannounced, at your place, but something tells me we'd get lost in the throng.

GILES: Yes. This is certainly quieter. And more spacious. I like what you've done here. My old place had a courtyard garden much like yours. Except it was in front, and somewhat smaller.

ESTELLA: Where was that?

GILES: On Hallston Street. Near the intersection with Andrews.

ESTELLA: One of those white stucco numbers. Did yours have a fountain?

GILES: Yes it did. Didn't your brother tell you about it?

ESTELLA: Maybe. It's strange how we never met before now.

GILES: Vincent never mentioned you. I didn't know you even existed.

ESTELLA: You never watched the news?

GILES: No. And I only read the paper to spot suspicious deaths.

ESTELLA: I guess we were both caught up in our work.

GILES: So what changed?

ESTELLA: I became caught up in your work.

GILES: The First has come after you?

ESTELLA: No. I wouldn't know anything about that. But my family's always had this story about how Sunnydale would be the site of some final struggle, and we had to be here for it. That was the convenient excuse for why none of us ever managed to get out of this town. Then, last year, I had this dream where a bolt of lightning struck right where the high school is. The building exploded. The ground began to crumble and fracture, and the whole town looked like it was perched precariously on top of a giant volcano. The people were gone. But I could hear all these screams and cries.

GILES: You had a dream about the Hellmouth.

ESTELLA: Which is only natural. I've lived on it for forty years. But the truly frightening part happened once I woke up. I felt this searing, burning pain in my belly. Like someone was pouring acid on my skin. And then I saw this.

She pulls up her shirt and shows Giles her stomach. Radiating out from her navel are twelve red lines, each about two inches long.

GILES: My word. [Giles tentatively reaches out to touch one of the rays]

ESTELLA: Don't. It still hurts when it's touched.

GILES: I'm sorry. [looks carefully at the symbol] This is most unexpected. I've never heard of the First doing anything like this, especially to someone unaffiliated with the Council, or Slayers, or any of their usual targets. Simply baffling. Do you have any idea why you were chosen to be, er, marked?

ESTELLA: No. Except that, you know, it somehow always seems to be the women who get picked.

Faith, Willow and Kennedy stand in the pool room of another house, looking out onto the dance floor, where six of the Potentials are. Izora and Molly are downstairs playing darts, and Amanda and a freshmen guy are playing a sophomore guy and girl in eight-ball.

FAITH: When did that lair become the Women's Center?

WILLOW: Last year. So who lived there when you were around?

FAITH: Guy in a white hat with a pot belly. Guess his flunkies were out when I dusted him.

KENNEDY: You think after a while a college would notice a big empty building that keeps getting filled with the corpses of its students.

WILLOW: Maybe they finally did. Or, more probably, they finally needed the extra office space.

FAITH: It's been a slow night. Six clubs. No vamps.

KENNEDY: Zora got one.

FAITH: That's right. Where is she?

WILLOW: Downstairs at the dart board. She's won like three games in a row.

FAITH: Good for her. They play darts in Morocco?

KENNEDY: No. Guess she's got good aim, no matter what she's shooting.

FAITH: Wesley would like her. He's got this whole Dirty Harry gun nut thing going on.

WILLOW: [laughs] Wesley's trying to be Dirty Harry? "You feeling lucky, punk?" [laughs some more] I can't even picture that. No. I can. That's why I'm laughing.

FAITH: It works for him. Told ya the guy's changed.

WILLOW: No one can change that much. Especially not Wesley.

FAITH: Look who's talking. Four years ago a boarding school brat like Kennedy wouldn't have given a shy dweeb like you the time of day. Hell, you wouldn't have known what to do even if she did.

KENNEDY: Please. Willow was already plenty hot back in the day. I would've noticed her in a heartbeat.

WILLOW: And I was a geek, not a dweeb.

FAITH: Point is, people change. Places change. Time was I could pick off a vampire or two at every party on this street. And nothing's even risen in this town since I got here.

KENNEDY: They're running scared. Wouldn't you be scared if all of us were on the hunt? Oh my god. Look at her.

FAITH: Not bad. Don't think she plays for your side, though. [looks at the Potentials on the dance floor] Uh oh. That guy's getting too close to Ella. This could get ugly. [The guy paws Ella and starts grinding against her. She pushes him away. He slams into the wall and falls down.] I better go take care of this. [Faith rushes out onto the dance floor]

Just off the dance floor, near the keg, a tall blonde woman hits on a dorky freshman, smiling and laughing and caressing his shoulder.

KENNEDY: She does not belong with that guy. Who is she trying to kid?

WILLOW: You think she's one of us?

KENNEDY: No! I think she's a vampire. The only thing a woman like that would want a guy like that for is, well -

WILLOW: Dinner?

KENNEDY: Uh-huh.

WILLOW: Should I go tell Faith.

KENNEDY: I think we can handle this one ourselves.

WILLOW: We? I wasn't planning on busting out the spells tonight.

KENNEDY: You won't have to. Just back me up.

The woman puts her arm around the guy's waist and they walk out the back door, into an alley. Kennedy and Willow follow. She has him against a chain link fence, and she runs her fingers down his chest. He smiles.

KENNEDY: Can we play, too?

The vampire turns to her right and sees two young women walking towards her.

VAMPIRE: You'll get your turn. [she naturally assumes Kennedy and Willow will be her next victims]

KENNEDY: I was thinking, before you dig into him, you and me could go at it while he watched. I bet the boy would like that. [looks at him and smiles. He smiles back, confused but titillated]

VAMPIRE: Don't see the harm in that. Long as he doesn't run away. [slams the guy's back into the chain-link fence] You better not. [the frightened but still turned-on guy shakes his head. He wonders why she would think that he would leave.]

KENNEDY: Here we go.

Kennedy hits the vampire in the face with a straight right kick. She goes bumpy. The young man gasps. The vampire throws a right hook kick. Kennedy ducks and punches her in the stomach with a left uppercut. The vampire blocks her right hook and throws Kennedy back ten feet. She tumbles to the ground. When the vampires closes with Kennedy, Willow comes at her from behind and tries to stake her. The vampire spins around, knocks the stake out of her hand with a left roundhouse kick, then puts her left hand around Willow's neck.

KENNEDY: Willow, no!

Kennedy leaps to her feet, concerned about her girlfriend's attempt to play hero. The boy tries to run away. The vampire knocks him on his back with a right kick to the chest. She hurls Willow into the fence. As she prepares to throw a right hook, Kennedy comes at her from behind, a stake in her left hand. Instead of throwing the punch, the vampire swings her right arm backwards, trying to hit Kennedy in the face. Kennedy ducks under the punch, gets between Willow and the vampire, then stakes her with a backhand stab. The vampire turns to dust. The guy shrieks and stares at Willow and Kennedy.

WILLOW: I'd run home if I were you.

He gets to his feet, looks at Willow and Kennedy and the pile of dust twice more, then runs off.

KENNEDY: Are you okay?

WILLOW: Oh please. This was nothing. [they walk back towards the house]

KENNEDY: Good thing I had your back.

WILLOW: You think you saved me?

KENNEDY: So you weren't about to get pounded and bitten?

WILLOW: Of course not. In fact, I was about to stake her.

KENNEDY: Your stake was on the ground.

WILLOW: Yes. But then there's that trick I can do.

KENNEDY: You shouldn't be ashamed.

WILLOW: I'm not.

KENNEDY: Everyone needs saving sometime.

WILLOW: Yes. But that wasn't one of my times. The stake. The one on the ground, right behind her. I was planning on floating it and driving it through her heart.

KENNEDY: Sorry. I forgot how good you were at making the timber rise.

WILLOW: What's that supposed to mean? [Kennedy hugs Willow as they walk towards the back stairs of the house]

KENNEDY: Nothing, sweetie. Didn't anyone ever tell you that sometimes a stake is just a stake?

It's five pm on Friday afternoon. The construction workers are taking down their scaffolding and packing up their equipment. On Wednesday and Thursday the new columns were poured. On Friday the floors on the second-level balcony were finished. Xander, who as a carpenter wasn't directly involved in these tasks, repaired the busted floors and walls throughout the hotel, especially in the sub-basement, where most of the fighting with Angelus and his gang took place. Xander has just distributed the last $3,000 of the bill to his workers. He's talking with Gunn, Fred and Angel, who for one is glad to be rid of Xander.

XANDER: They really like these cash-only, under-the-table, tax-free jobs.

ANGEL: You make it sound like we're doing something illegal.

FRED: Why would anyone draw that conclusion? Just because we paid you twenty grand in cash that we can't explain how we got our hands on?

ANGEL: I do things by-the-book around here.

XANDER: As by-the-book as a 200 year-old dead guy-slash-occasional serial killer can. Legally, you don't even exist. You probably don't even pay taxes.

FRED: You don't?

GUNN: We have to. This is why we need equal shares. Even with that, we still get less take home.

ANGEL: They've never sent me a form. What was I supposed to do? Complain?

XANDER: So are you satisfied with out work?

Angel walks over to one of the columns and touches it.

ANGEL: Not the same. But close enough.

XANDER: Remember, they're reinforced. So's the balcony. And I put a few more lateral supports in the staircases. That way the place should hold up better next time you have one of your rumbles.

With the workers walking out and not looking in the direction of Angel and his friends, Lorne comes upstairs to talk.

LORNE: The ballroom is spectacular! Even better than before.

XANDER: So you like what I did with the windows looking down from the basement?

LORNE: It's wonderful. Before they were kind of gloomy and gothic. Now they're playful and Palladian. It goes much better with the space.

XANDER: I thought it would. Now, as for the upstairs rooms, how many mini-disasters have you had? I was thinking earthquake, but that only fits for a small portion of the damage.

ANGEL: Three years. Lots of evil fighting. Things happen. Plus, the place was run down when we moved in, and I'm sure there were whole wings we never got the chance to refurbish.

XANDER: This place does have more rooms than you could ever use. Maybe Anya's right when she says you should start knocking down walls, making grander spaces. This place could certainly use a training room.

GUNN: Now this I don't get. If we're out there fighting for our lives every day, why do we need to train? How would we even have time?

Wesley comes down the stairs.

WES: Not bad. Your men did a, a very professional job.

XANDER: They're professionals. Go figure.

WES: Though, I have to admit, it is odd to see you in a position of authority, as a leader of men.

XANDER: I'd probably feel the same way if I ever saw you in charge. So this stubble thing must be your new look. At first I thought you just forgot to shave. Now I see that it's the exact opposite – you're remembering NOT to shave.

And here Angel thought he'd be the one who would want to slug Xander. Before Wesley can respond and escalate the friction, Connor pops in. Literally. He leaps down from the balcony and lands on his feet among the group. Xander jumps and looks startled.

CONNOR: Didn't mean to scare you.

XANDER: You didn't scare me. You only, barely, startled me. [Angel and Wesley and Connor – boy, was Xander ready to leave.]

CONNOR: How's Dawn doing? [now "doing" and "Dawn" were two words Xander did not like to hear Connor speak in the same sentence]

XANDER: She's fine. You thought she wouldn't be fine, just because you're not around? [Angel's in the odd position of being in the same boat with Xander on this one. Both of them are made uncomfortable by the Dawn-Connor relationship.]

CONNOR: I just meant, is she healthy? She's not sick, or in pain, right?

XANDER: [mystified] No. Why would she be in pain?

ANGEL: No reason.

WES: No reason at all.

LORNE: The boy just worries. You know how young lovers can be.

XANDER: [more mystified] Okay. I think I'll be going now. And, Buffy and Faith are fine. In case you were wondering. [if they were nervous about Dawn, surely they worried about the two Slayers who were on the front lines, both of whom Angel cared about deeply, though in very different ways.]

ANGEL: Thanks. That's good to know. You can tell Buffy that we're also fine.

XANDER: So everyone's fine all around. Good then.

FRED: Thanks for fixin' everything up.

GUNN: Yeah. We'll be sure to call you next time someone trashes the place.

XANDER: I'll keep that in mind. I'm sure my guys would be happy to work here again, as long as you keep supplying those mysterious bags of don't-ask-don't-tell cash.

Xander walks out the front door. Cordelia, who was in the office, comes out. She didn't like being around Sunnydale people. It reminded her of how much she'd changed. Especially of how evil she became. In the courtyard, Xander passes a short, slender black man in a maroon four-button suit with a black shirt and tie. He walks through the front door and down into the lobby.

DIZZY: Is everyone cleared out? I assume you want to keep this private.

ANGEL: Can I help you?

DIZZY: No. Of course not. I assume Lorne is horny.

LORNE: I'm what!?

DIZZY: On your forehead. I'm sure you've noticed them. I'm Dizz. They told me a demon named Lorne summoned me to this address.

FRED: Lorne, have we been tinkering with the magic again?

DIZZY: You can't summon me with magic, doll.

LORNE: Oh! You must be from The Powers.

CORDY: He's with The Powers That Be? [walks up to Dizzy and looks down at him as if she's going to rip his face off] You have a LOT of explaining to do. And you better start doing it quick. Because after what you put me through, I'm not gonna be very patient. [Dizzy steps back]

DIZZY: One second. [unbuttons his jacket. Pulls a PDA out of his jacket pocket and presses the screen a few times with his stylus.] Cordelia Chase, I presume?

CORDY: You don't recognize me? I was a freakin' Higher Being!

DIZZY: It's a big universe, honey. The right hand doesn't know what the left's doing. What I mean is, I had nothing to do with what happened to you. [looks at his screen] Damn. God damn. They really put you through the ringer. Oh. Now that's just wrong. [looks at Cordy] This was not even close to my department. I'll be honest. Things are more chaotic up there than you could ever imagine. Hell, if you knew how screwed-up The System really is, you wouldn't be able to sleep at night. [chuckles] This fellow. Your contact. I've never heard of him. They sent me because I know Angel's contact. Whistler and I me, we're old friends.

ANGEL: [smiles] Really! You know him. How is he?

DIZZY: As good as a cat can be while doing a hundred years of desk duty. That's his punishment for losing your soul. But he knows he's lucky. He coulda gotten your punishment.

ANGEL: Whistler suffered for my mistake?

DIZZY: What are you talking about? You suffered for his mistake. He knew what would happen. You don't lead a horse to water and then forget to tell him all hell's gonna break loose if he takes a little sip. You found out the hard way. But that's old news. I'm here for Summers, Dawn. Which one of you is her?

FRED: If you're really a Higher Being, why do you need one of those things. Shouldn't you be omniscient?

DIZZY: Higher Beings don't come to earth. I'm a Guardian Angel. As opposed to my boy Whistler, who was a Guardian of Angel. [chuckles] Tough crowd. I see that Summers is not supposed to be here. You. kid. You must be her liaison.

ANGEL: My son's private life is none of your business.

DIZZY: It's a technical term, pops. You people need to chill. Got any single malt?

LORNE: Yes. I do.

DIZZY: On the rocks. Pronto. We ain't got any of the good stuff back home. Back to business. Connor, I'm here to tell you that the visions are where they belong.

WES: Excuse me?

CORDY: Connor has super-powers. Dawn doesn't. In what bizarro world is she meant to have the visions?

DIZZY: Connor cannot receive the visions precisely because he already possesses a demonic power.

CONNOR: I'm not a demon.

DIZZY: I didn't say you were. Touchy, touchy. Do you or do you not have super-human strength, quickness, resilience, and so on?

CONNOR: Yeah. I guess.

DIZZY: That's quite a gift for understatement you got there. From what I'm told, the visions were dormant in Angel. He tried to transfer them to Connor. When visions are transferred to a living person who cannot have them, they migrate to the nearest person who can.

ANGEL: Nearest? How was Dawn the nearest? She's ninety miles away.

DIZZY: Ain't got nothing to do with geography.

CORDY: Love. It's love. That's why Doyle could give me the visions.

CONNOR: Dawn got them because I love her?

DIZZY: To transfer remotely, it had to be a lot more than that.

CONNOR: [smiles] Is it because we're soul mates?

Angel nearly heaves. Dizz bursts out laughing.

DIZZY: I'm sorry. It's hilarious, if you take it literally. Souls mating? [more laughter] The imagery alone. [stops laughing] It's an immortal thing. You wouldn't understand. For reasons I don't know and could care less about, the visions sensed that you two were linked in one way or another. You're linked to Angel. She's linked to you. And since the Visions are intended to help Angel, Dawn is the logical one to receive them.

A big smile comes across Connor's face. Angel looks paler than usual. This is a nightmare.

CORDY: Again, why can she receive them? She's just a person. And that's all she is.

DIZZY: I have a very good answer for that. Just one minute. [looks at his PDA. Opens the "Summers, Dawn" file. His eyes practically shoot out of their sockets] Good golly, Miss Dawny. This I sure ain't seen before. I mean, I have, but never on this scale. Got it. Here were are. She's a portal.

CONNOR: Huh?

ANGEL: She was. But not anymore.

DIZZY: Can we settle down and let the expert explain? And where's my drink? [Lorne comes back, hands it to him] Thank you. [drinks half the glass in his first sip] Twelve years?

LORNE: Aged fourteen, as a matter of fact.

DIZZY: Thank you. I knew an empath would have the good stuff. After all, it's what fuels you.

GUNN: Booze is your food?

LORNE: No.

DIZZY: But it fuels your powers. Get off the juice, and you can't read no more.

FRED: Lorne, is that true?

LORNE: I dunno. I never tried.

DIZZY: Don't. Once they're gone, you can't get 'em back.

WES: So there's a reason you drink so much.

CORDY: And all this time I thought you had a serious problem.

CONNOR: Can we get back to Dawn being a portal?

DIZZY: Of course. [finishes the glass] Can you freshen this? [hands glass to Lorne] Dawn Summers used to be energy. Then she became matter.

FRED: Wow Connor. Your girlfriend has quantum properties.

DIZZY: But she's always been a portal. The vanquishing of Glory from this dimension did not change Dawn's fundamental nature. The visions are sent from other dimensions directly into a person's brain. Ordinary people cannot handle the trans-dimensional energy stream. Even demons find it painful. That dimensional hop will sting you every time. However, Dawn is potentially connected to all dimensions, making the vision transfer process essentially painless. That's it. That's the scoop. [Lorne hands him his refill] Thank you. To your health.

LORNE: And my powers. [they clink glasses. Lorne drinks his cosmo. Angel's too shocked to say anything. Connor's too happy. Wes, Fred and Gunn are still trying to make sense of what Dizz told them. Cordy's mad.]

CORDY: I don't believe this. I suffer for three years. I nearly die. I get taken from my friends, and when I'm sent back, I get forced to do things, and people, I would never do. And you're telling me this girl won't go through ANY of that, just because she wasn't born like the rest of us? That is SO unfair. Why does that family get all the luck?

DIZZY: I ain't got a clue what you're talking about, but those questions sounded rhetorical to me. [finishes his drink. puts the glass on the counter] Thanks Red-horn Greenpants. So, to sum up, nothing to worry about. The Visions are where they belong. My work's done. I'm outta here.

Dizz disappears.

FRED: If he could do that, why'd he bother to walk in through the door?

ANGEL: I don't believe this.

CORDY: I've had to work – and suffer – to get where I am. Those Summers girls have everything handed to them on a silver platter.

Connor, still grinning ear-to-ear, runs up to his room.

ANGEL: Connor, where are you going? We have to talk about this.

GUNN: I think he wants to tell his girl the good news.

ANGEL: Good news? This is a disaster!

FRED: I'm sure the people in her visions – ya know, the ones you'll save – won't feel that way.

ANGEL: That is not what I meant. I'm glad someone is getting the visions.

WES: You just wish someone different was getting them.

ANGEL: She doesn't even live here.

CORDY: She lives with Buffy.

ANGEL: It needlessly complicates things. What if she can't get in touch with me?

CORDY: Buffy will not be happy with you when she learns her kid sis has become your Vision Girl.

WES: It's not Angel's fault. It's mine. I was the one who found the spell that transferred the visions.

CORDY: And she already hated you to begin with.

WES: Maybe she'll accept this as an ironic lesson about unintended consequence. No. I'm a dead man.

ANGEL: It's my fault. I was an absentee father.

GUNN: Because he sunk you out at sea.

LORNE: You can't blame yourself, Angel food. You did everything you could for that boy, and them some.

ANGEL: No I didn't. I drove him away.

FRED: By then, you were evil.

ANGEL: But you stayed. All of you did. Because you loved me. [Cordy sheepishly raises her hand]

CORDY: Actually, Angel, in case you forgot, I was trying to keep you from ever getting your soul back.

ANGEL: But you still loved me.

CORDY: Deep down. I guess.

ANGEL: Connor left town because he didn't love me. I couldn't make my own son love me.

WES: Granted, there were some severe obstacles placed in your way.

LORNE: Angel buddy, I know how self-flagellation makes it easier for you. But not everything that goes the way you didn't want it to is your fault. And Connor loves you now. He does, right?

ANGEL: Yes. He told me.

GUNN: Can we be sure he means it? [Angel looks angry]

ANGEL: I know my own son.

FRED: Speaking of which, did you notice how happy he was when he heard the news?

ANGEL: And just when he was starting to get over her.

LORNE: So much for you knowing your own son. Let's face it. Kiddo's got a right to be giddy. How many relationships get the magical Seal of Approval?

NEXT CHAPTER: Buffy meets the new Big Bad in Sunnydale.


	13. A Time To Kill

A new Big Bad takes no prisoners when he goes to work on Buffy and the Potentials.

It's 2:30, Friday afternoon at Sunnydale High, the end of the school week. Giles has decided to take the girls outside to the track for a workout. A few of the guys on the track team are already out doing laps. Faith spots one buff, sweaty, shirtless guy running towards them.

FAITH: Check out the beefcake.

MOLLY: Hands off. He's mine.

Keith stops to catch his breath. Faith takes a second look. It is the boy she saw Molly with at the Bronze on Tuesday night.

FAITH: Relax, Moll. I'm spoken for.

Keith notices Molly and smiles at her. She blushes.

KEITH: Hey Molly! Didn't expect to see you out here.

MOLLY: You never mentioned that you ran.

KEITH: I don't. Not in races. I throw the javelin.

MOLLY: A sport AND a weapon. I loik that. [Keith laughs, not quite understanding that Molly is already wondering about what range she could teach him to dust a vampire from.]

KEITH: Look. I gotta go and, stretch, or something, with the team. They're over there on the infield and I think I'm supposed to join them. [uncomfortable pause] Great seeing you.

FAITH: I'm sure the feeling was mutual, kiddo.

Giles and Buffy shepherd the Potentials towards the bleachers, which they're going to climb. Keith heads the other way. Molly and Keith glance back at each other. Then she giggles and whispers with Rose and Rona. Giles realizes there are certain benefits to a Slayer dating a boy who can't go outside during the daytime. Angel never distracted Buffy when she was training during school hours. Also, given the escalation in the First's attempts to kill the Potentials, this was no time for goofing off.

Meanwhile, Carlos takes his girlfriend Denise down to the basement.

DENISE: I got practice. So do you.

CARLOS: In a bit. You got ten minutes, right?

DENISE: I suppose. [Carlos turns off the light and kisses Denise] What's the matter? Don't wanna see me?

Carlos flips the light back on and they start kissing again. After about ten seconds, Denise abruptly stops. She sees something over Carlos's shoulder.

CARLOS: Something wrong?

DENISE: [whispering] Who are they?

Carlos turns around. Between twenty and thirty feet in front of him walk four men in dark suits with black hats. Their lips are unusually pale, their faces gray-tinged and somewhat featureless. They slowly walk by in silence, not even acknowledging Carlos's and Denise's presence. Denise grabs onto Carlos from behind, slightly spooked by the surprise guests.

CARLOS: [whispers] Relax. We'll just go upstairs. If we can find them.

DENISE: [pointing and puzzled] They're right over there.

CARLOS: Good. Sometimes they move.

DENISE: What exactly do you smoke down here?

CARLOS: Very funny. [the two of them are relieved when they return to the ground floor]

DENISE: They had pink eye. I mean, pink eyes. I think they did. You're a regular down there. What's up with the albino g-men?

CARLOS: Never seen those guys before. Never seen anything like them down there. They looked like they meant business. The other stuff I've seen down there, they didn't have a purpose. Just wandering, like there were trapped or something. Not those guys.

DENISE: The profile's all well and good, but what's it gotta do with us?

CARLOS: Nothing. Don't sweat it. I'll go tell Buffy. She handles these kindsa things.

DENISE: Yeah. She's real down with the peculiar. Look. I should get going.

CARLOS: Me too. See ya after practice?

DENISE: Got nothing better to do.

CARLOS: That's my girl. Sorry bout the freak show.

DENISE: Don't be. It's good to get a little adrenaline rush before I hit the track.

She kisses Carlos and heads off to the locker room. Carlos goes to Buffy's training room. No one's there. He runs out in front of the school, hoping to catch Kit and Dawn on their way to Kit's car in the parking lot.

DAWN: You miss him?

KIT: He left last night. And he'll be back Sunday.

DAWN: I know.

KIT: Maybe a little. Eli's fun to have around.

DAWN: I thought he was more than that to you.

KIT: I guess. He's different from other guys. Doesn't treat you like dirt or take you for granted. Eli always acts like he's lucky to be around me.

DAWN: He is. And, let's face it, you are like his first girlfriend. I think. No, I'm pretty sure.

KIT: I don't know why no one snapped him up before me. He's so damn cute. And funny. Not to mention cool.

DAWN: And shy and strange and, kind of a total loner. No wonder he joined our little group.

KIT: He hasn't quite earned his misfit credentials just yet.

DAWN: [smirks] You got something in mind?

KIT: No. It's more fun if he surprises me. [Carlos runs up to them] Speaking of surprises.

CARLOS: Dawn, have you seen Buffy?

DAWN: I think she went out to the track.

CARLOS: Thanks.

DAWN: Is something wrong?

CARLOS: I don't think so. Not yet. [Carlos heads off]

KIT: Shouldn't you go find Buffy?

DAWN: I'm sure she can take care of it on her own.

KIT: So how's Connor doing?

Kennedy, Molly, Chao-Ahn, Ariella and Izora are running up and down the bleacher stairs. Amanda, Rona, Madari, Fadila and Rose run around five of the six lanes of the track, which are set up for the 440 yard hurdles. Carlos runs up to Buffy, who is with Faith and Giles. He breathlessly conveys the news.

CARLOS: Buffy, there's something downstairs.

BUFFY: What did you see? Another zombie? A ghost?

CARLOS: Four guys in suits. Like the guys in Reservoir Dogs, but bigger.

GILES: Reapers? At the school?

BUFFY: Sounds like it. Thanks Carlos. Don't worry. We'll take care of it.

CARLOS: So it's safe to be here? I'm mean, other than in the basement?

BUFFY: Yeah. Sure. It's fine for you and the other students. [Buffy's fear is causing her to be understandably impatient with Carlos] You can go now, and do whatever it was you were doing.

Carlos knows that when it comes to Buffy's work, it's better if he has no idea what's going on. He runs off to the boys' locker room to change for baseball practice.

GILES: We have to bring the girls inside and arm them.

BUFFY: No. Take them home. I'll go check out the basement with Faith.

GILES: But they could all be here. You'd be outnumbered.

BUFFY: I said we'd check it out. Not fight. Not yet.

FAITH: They're probably here for the Potentials. We shouldn't let them get a chance.

With Buffy and Faith in agreement, there was nothing he could do.

GILES: Very well. I'll bring the van around.

Faith gathers the five on the bleachers. Buffy rushes out to the track to round up the other five. The five of them see Buffy, she tells them to stop, they understand something's up, and they head across the field with her as Giles's van pulls up. The Potentials pile into the van.

BUFFY: Don't worry. We'll be heading home in no time.

GILES: Please be careful. Watch out for traps. A dark basement with winding corridors is ideal for an ambush.

BUFFY: I know that place a lot better than they do.

Giles drives off. Buffy and Faith grab their swords and head downstairs.

FAITH: What do they need this much space for?

BUFFY: All the evil.

FAITH: That's my point. No classrooms. No storage. It's just dark and empty and right over the Hellmouth. Whoever built this thing was evil or just plain asking for trouble.

BUFFY: That could describe this whole town. You hear something?

Buffy and Faith quietly but quickly approach the noises. Standing around a hole are six Reapers who are sharpening their weapons with stones. They toss the stones into the hole, which turns red. Buffy and Faith charge at them from behind. Buffy swings her sword for one of their backs, but that Reaper, along with the other five, leans forward and plunges into the hole, which disappears. Back home, Giles tries to make sense of what Buffy told him.

GILES: It doesn't fit the pattern of a sacrifice. Sounds more like a teleportation. This must be how they periodically disappear.

BUFFY: You think they've been at the school before?

GILES: It shouldn't surprise us if they were drawn to the Hellmouth.

DAWN: They're at the school, when the girls are there, but they don't even bother to attack?

GILES: That's exactly what they did today.

BUFFY: What if they're trying to make something rise?

SPIKE: Then we kill 'em before they get the chance.

DAWN: That's the problem. Killing them IS what will make something rise.

SPIKE: So we DON'T kill them?

BUFFY: No. We kill them. Then we kill whatever comes next.

GILES: That could be a problem if they're all together.

BUFFY: Which is why we bring the Potentials along. Look. I know we all want to protect them. But if they aren't around to back us up, we could die. And then they'll be no one left to protect them.

GILES: Only as a last resort. I don't want to lead them into a trap.

SPIKE: You think the two of us fancy walking into one?

GILES: You mean the three of you. Where's Faith? [Faith happens to be on the phone with Lindsey]

FAITH: Not much happening here. Least not compared to LA. How was your week?

LINDSEY: Okay, I guess. I'm all healed up from last Saturday. Jury selection went well. Which means we at least have a chance.

FAITH: You gonna be able to visit?

LINDSEY: Maybe next weekend. I have a lot of work to do before the trial starts on Monday. My clients need me here.

FAITH: And I don't?

LINDSEY: That's sweet. And tempting. But it would constitute malpractice. If I don't pay enough attention to my clients, they could die. I'm pretty sure that's not the case with you.

FAITH: My life is in danger. And having you around helps remind me I got something worth living for.

LINDSEY: You got plenty to live for, with or without me. Hang in there until next weekend.

FAITH: That a promise?

LINDSEY: Court should get out on Saturday at one. I can fly straight there. Barring the end of the world, of course.

FAITH: Yeah. That part pretty much goes without saying.

A few hours later, in the early evening, Xander is home, watching television with Andrew and Anya.

ANYA: So how was it spending a week working for a man you hate?

XANDER: Angel's not a man. And I don't hate him.

ANYA: You dislike him.

XANDER: He dislikes me. I reciprocate accordingly.

ANDREW: Does Wesley work for Angel, or is he on his own and helps out when Angel needs him?

XANDER: I can't remember. I think I filed that information under "Could Not Care Less."

ANYA: How does Wesley differ from the sniveling upper class twit we knew and ridiculed?

XANDER: He doesn't shave, he doesn't comb his hair, and he dresses casual.

ANYA: Oh. Look! The husband didn't kill his mistress. His wife did.

ANDREW: No. This is the one where their kid shoots the mistress. One of the ones where that happens, I mean.

XANDER: I still don't care what anyone says. No one can replace Jill Henessey. I can't wait till they bring her back.

ANDREW: Stop living in denial. Claire Kinkaid is dead.

XANDER: No she's not. You forget that the car crash didn't kill her. Claire's in a coma. In tv-world, that means she can wake up at any time.

ANDREW: Do you think she had an affair with Jack Mccoy?

XANDER: No! That's disgusting. Sure, he slept with other assistants. But he married both of them. There's no evidence of him ever sleeping with an assistant he DIDN'T marry. I say nothing happened between them. I always hoped Claire would get together with Mike Logan. They seemed to have real chemistry.

ANDREW: Plus, he was the coolest bad cop. Chris Noth can work me over any day.

Giles and Dawn are doing research in the dining room.

GILES: You seem a bit chipper tonight.

DAWN: What? No I don't. We're fighting the First Evil. What's there to be chipper about?

GILES: I didn't mean anything negative by it.

DAWN: What did you mean?

GILES: Nothing.

DAWN: Then why did you even mention it?

GILES: Never mind.

He doesn't know why she's so paranoid. A few hours ago, Connor called with the good news about why Dawn has the visions. She wants to keep that her little secret. The phone rings, Buffy picks it up, and tells Giles it's for him.

MARCEL: Sorry to call so late, old friend.

GILES: It's only 9:30.

MARCEL: Of course. You're on the far coast. I forgot.

GILES: It's what, half past six in the morning where you are? This must be serious, to get you up so early.

MARCEL: Potentially serious. Excuse the pun.

GILES: Something new is after the girls?

MARCEL: No. Allow me to explain. When I met up with the other Watchers, Misha told me about a girl he met last month in Bulgaria named Tanya. There had been several vampire attacks in her town, and she wanted to learn how to defend herself and fight back. Misha lied and told Tanya she was a Potential Slayer. He told her she had instincts and innate abilities which made her a better vampire fighter than nearly everyone on the planet. Tanya proceeded to become a formidable vampire hunter almost overnight. After three days, Misha told the truth.

GILES: I suspect she was furious.

MARCEL: Nonsense. Tanya was grateful to know she was not doomed to an early death.

GILES: But he could have got her killed.

MARCEL: Misha said he didn't put her in any situation he wouldn't put any other normal vampire fighter in. She wanted to become good. And she did. Faster than anyone he had ever taught. Tanya was grateful.

GILES: She thought the end justified the means?

MARCEL: The end was saving herself and her neighbors. And the end is what should concern you, Rupert. Tanya may be proof of – how you say? – a Placebo Effect.

GILES: She felt her life was in danger. If anything, it's an adrenaline effect.

MARCEL: Did any of the Potentials display any natural fighting ability before someone told them they had such abilities?

GILES: That's not a valid comparison. No one threw them into a fight without first telling them about their gifts.

MARCEL: Misha called it faith-based fighting. You look someone in the eye, tell them you believe in them, tell them they have what it takes, and the fear, the doubt, the hesitation, it all disappears.

GILES: You have always been one to buck orthodoxy when it comes to Slayers, Claude.

MARCEL: This is fact, not theory.

GILES: It's theory based on very slender fact. A theory which conforms to your excessively pragmatic take on Slayer Power.

MARCEL: Because I reject the transcendental garbage about all Slayers being connected to a greater whole? I choose not to dehumanize them.

GILES: Not to mention your faith-based denial of the First Slayer.

MARCEL: Self-serving propaganda told by Watchers to justify their tyranny over Slayers.

GILES: I happened to meet that figment of self-serving propaganda.

MARCEL: In a dream.

GILES: I helped channel her power into Buffy.

MARCEL: You made Buffy invincible for a few seconds. Invincibility is not a Slayer Power. It is something a war goddess would possess. The spell's in Sumerian. You probably channeled Inanna. She was the protector of Slayers back then. In fact, I've read that the priests of Akkad believed she was the "source" of Slayer Power. Rupert, I don't think we know where Slayer Power comes from. But I know it wasn't created by a Stone Age shaman. Or by any man, or group of men. So much that we took for granted has proven to be lies. Lies that can kill. Maybe, to be safe, you should think of the Potentials not as natural-born warriors, but as teenage girls with a few months' weapons training.

GILES: I have always treated them with the utmost care. Never have I thrown them into a situation they were not prepared for.

MARCEL: Then Misha's discovery is academic.

GILES: Let's hope Tanya's the last girl any Watcher tries to fool "for her own good."

MARCEL: Yes. Let's hope Watchers stop deceiving non-Slayers. We both know they've been deceiving Slayers for far too long.

Xander notices the Potentials arming themselves. He walks over to Buffy.

XANDER: Big night?

BUFFY: Might be. You never know.

XANDER: Need me? I know you haven't lately.

BUFFY: I haven't forgotten you. Right now, I'm still trying to figure out what we're fighting, let alone how to fight it. Willow hasn't been out in the field much either.

XANDER: I just want to do my part. If all these guys show up, it'll help to have an extra set of weapon-wielding hands around.

BUFFY: That's not why I need you. Not for this. Not like I don't need you for this. I do.

XANDER: Sorry, but I'm getting a little dizzy listening to you go around in circles like that.

BUFFY: The girls are new at this. Sometimes they can get a little too eager. I need you to help Giles hold them back, if it comes to that. Or to just back them up, if it doesn't.

XANDER: So you need my well-honed fight-or-flight reflex.

BUFFY: I need your judgement. And your bravery. If I'm too busy fighting, they need someone to look out for them.

XANDER: You value my judgement. Thanks. Sometimes even I don't value it. So what'll Willow be doing?

BUFFY: I need her hear. To protect the house.

XANDER: It's already safe.

BUFFY: From attacks inside. Someone could still try to set it on fire from the outside.

XANDER: That's true. We're protected. But the structure itself isn't. I hope the First hasn't got a bulldozer, or a wrecking ball. A sanctuary that's a heap of rubble really wouldn't do us much good.

Buffy, Faith and Spike walk the darkened hallways of the school at night.

SPIKE: Why does Xander get to drive my car?

BUFFY: In case we need a quick getaway.

SPIKE: Something tells me he'd panic and crash it into a tree.

The three of them go downstairs. The basement's empty. They stand around where the Reapers vanished earlier that afternoon.

FAITH: Can you say trap?

BUFFY: Giles!

FAITH: The girls!

SPIKE: My wheels!

They race upstairs and dash outside. Giles drives the van, with the Potentials inside, around the parking lot. Xander drives Spike's old Chevy. Since they are always moving, they can easily make a getaway if the Reapers show up. As of yet, there is no sign of them.

BUFFY: I don't get it. Willow said there was a cluster of them on top of the Hellmouth. Spike, can't you smell these guys?

SPIKE: Yes. And I do. They're very near. [thinks for a few seconds, then looks up] On top of the Hellmouth alright.

Spike leads the Slayers onto the roof. Above the Principal's office, they jump three Reapers. The Reapers flee to their left. Spike uses a long metal rod to block one Reaper's sword and dagger, then kicks him in the face. Buffy ducks under another Reaper's sword, gets behind him, and kicks him in the back, knocking him on his face. When he gets up, he blocks her sword, but she knocks him on his back with a left roundhouse kick. Faith stabs the third Reaper in the stomach with her dagger, then punches him in the face with a right hook. The three beleaguered demons run away and leap two stories down to the ground. Buffy looks around, doesn't spot any ambushes, and then follows suit, with Faith and Spike backing her up. They engage the Reapers in a sixty foot-wide parking lot between the back of the school and the football bleachers. After fifteen seconds of one-on-one sparing, ten more Reapers emerge from underneath the bleachers. They tackle and punch Buffy, Spike and Faith, but don't pull out their weapons. The three of them, after getting pummelled a bit, retreat towards the dumpsters along the school building's back wall. They push two of the dumpsters at the Reapers, who team up to push them right back at their adversaries. At least it bought them a few seconds and kept the swarm at bay. The three Reapers they were originally fighting go in for the kill. Spike, who lost his metal pole when he impaled a Reaper on it, picks up a 2-by-4 from amongst the garbage and uses it to fend off his opponent. Buffy and Faith do likewise with their swords and daggers. The other ten Reapers start to close in, surround and isolate each of them. The good guys are beginning to tire.

To their left, they hear the roar of Giles's approaching van. He plows through five Reapers. Coming the other way is Xander. He passes Giles and drives straight for Faith, Buffy and Spike, as well as the Reapers who are directly engaging them. Faith and Buffy leap on top of the two dumpsters. The five vampires who were swarming them leap the other way. At the last instant, with the high beams in his eyes, Spike hops onto a loading platform four feet off the ground. The car misses the end of the platform by six inches. Spike would have been very upset if Xander scratched the fender, life-saving act or not. The bumper strikes one of the Reapers and knocks him twenty feet back. Another Reaper rolls up the hood before smashing into the front windshield. Spike winces and goes bumpy. Xander slams on the brakes. The Reaper rolls off the hood. Spike's ready to leap down and finish him off, along with the other Reaper Xander dazed. Xander gets out of the car with the same idea, as does Giles and the Potentials. With seven Reapers down, they've never had a better chance. But Spike forgot about the third Reaper he was fighting. That Reaper also leapt onto the loading platform. He grabs Spike from behind and hurls him down through the basement window behind them and to their left. Along with the other five Reapers who emerged unscathed from the demolition derby, he jumps down into the basement. Buffy turns to her left and sees this.

BUFFY: Spike!!

Giles of course couldn't care less about Spike. If half the Reapers want to give him a golden opportunity to finish the other half off, that's fine with him. He leads the Potentials away from the building and towards the five Reapers he ran over. They stand up and retreat towards the football field. Xander goes after the two Reapers he ran over. They race around him and leap down into the basement. Buffy and Faith are all alone, the Reapers having fled away from them in both directions. Buffy instinctively goes to help Spike. Faith, not wanting to let the Reapers teleport through the Hellmouth yet again, follows suit. Xander, thinking there has to be an easier way, breaks open a set of double-doors with his ax.

XANDER: GIles! In here!!

Xander pulls open the doors. The five remaining Reapers are sixty feet in front of the Potentials. Rupert knows that if they flee, there's no way he or the girls could catch them. So he leads the Potentials towards the door. The ten of them rush through, Kennedy in the lead. After making sure the Reapers aren't hot on their tail, Giles and Xander enter and close the doors. Downstairs, Spike negotiates the dark basement hallways, backpedaling and looking out for Reapers.

SPIKE: I should know this place better after spending so much bloody time down here. Now it's starting to look familiar. Of course. [enters a lit room sixty feet long and thirty feet wide] There's the evil g-spot right over there.

Three Reapers run towards him. He pulls down some metal shelving, which falls on one of them and impedes the other two. Behind the shelf, Spike finds two blood-stained Bringer knives. He picks them up.

SPIKE: Hey. That's my blood. The Reaper pushes the shelf off of him and gets up. Spike stays along the wall to his right and leaps past his three opponents. Running along the wall, he links up with Buffy and Faith.

BUFFY: Spike. You're okay.

SPIKE: I get the feeling I'm not the one they're after.

Buffy and Faith notice the three Reapers in front of them.

FAITH: That's not all of them. Where's the rest?

Fearing an ambush, they keep their backs to the wall. Five more Reapers, who were hiding in the dark corners to their right, appear. The eight Reapers circle around the Hellmouth and link hands. Buffy tries to figure out what to do. Upstairs, Xander and Giles try to find Buffy.

GILES: We can't just go downstairs. They could be anywhere. Can you hear anything?

XANDER: No. But I have a hunch where they are.

GILES: That hunch could lead us into a dead end.

Xander looks to his right at the door to the Principal's office.

XANDER: If you were the First, where's the one spot you would want Buffy?

FAITH: [whispers] Right back where we started. Now what?

BUFFY: [whispers] We attack, we're outnumbered. We leave to find the girls, they escape.

SPIKE: Shouldn't there be more of them?

BUFFY: [smiles] That's right. They won't all get away.

Buffy starts to walk towards the door on the opposite side of where the Reapers are. Faith and Spike follow suit, ready to finish off the five Reapers they presume are attacking Giles, Xander and the Potentials. But when they're twenty feet from the door, they see all those people coming through the door towards them. Buffy smiles, breathes a sigh of relief and does a quick head count.

BUFFY: And the enemy?

GILES: Didn't catch them following us.

BUFFY: We're going after the ones who showed up. You five [points to Madari, Ariella, Fadila, Rose and Izora - Buffy divided them into two squads of five for this mission] come with us. Kennedy, and the rest of you, watch out for any surprise attacks.

Buffy, Faith and Spike rush across the room, five Potentials behind them. The eight Reapers let go of each other's hands and form up in a line. One of them in the center goes after Buffy. She blocks his right hook kick. He ducks under her sword slash, then hits her with a left roundhouse. The Reaper to the left and the right of him retreat two steps, as if ready to back up their comrade. With other Reapers on their flanks, Spike and Faith don't attack, but stay back in support of Buffy. Five Potentials bunch together ten feet behind Spike and Faith. Giles brings the other five Potentials towards them, watching the back windows for any new Reapers. While the Potentials are regrouping and Spike and Faith eye their tentative adversaries, the Reapers on their flanks discreetly dash along the walls until they end up on the other side of the room. Giles and Xander notice this. Kennedy stands in the center, facing them at the apex of an arc, with Amanda, Molly and Xander to her left and Rona, Chao-Ahn and Giles to her right. Ariella and Fadila place themselves on Xander's left, and Madari, Izora and Rose array themselves to Giles's right, creating a twelve-person arc that extends from wall-to-wall. Now the Reapers can't get behind them. Spike and Faith go to work on their opponents. The one Buffy's facing is especially fierce. She assumes it's the one who gave all of them so much trouble two nights ago. Spike, to Buffy's left, notices this, and takes a break from pounding his Reaper to help her out, grabbing it and tossing it back into the wall. Buffy doesn't doesn't think she needs the help. Also, it keeps Spike from killing his Reaper. With her sword, Faith manages to slice down, from between the Reaper's left shoulder and neck, eight inches into his chest. Now he can't move his left arm side-to-side. Still, he swings furiously with the sword in his right hand and throws a few roundhouse kicks to make Faith know he's not done for yet.

In front of the Potentials and to their right, across from the door, five Reapers, one after the other, leap head-first through a window, do a flip and land on their feet. Now it's ten-on-twelve. Giles and Xander nervously glance over their shoulders, and notice Buffy, Faith and Spike haven't yet thinned the enemy numbers. But the ten Reapers don't attack. They just lean against the back wall. Some of them even cross their arms. Their laid-back posturing worries Giles. He looks at Kennedy.

GILES: Hold your ground. And be careful.

Giles walks across the line and reorganizes the girls so that the line features alternating members of each squad. From left to right, there is Ariella, Molly, Fadila, Amanda, Madari, Kennedy, Izora, Rona, Rose and Chao-Ahn. Kennedy's squad, along with Xander, face the Reapers against the wall. The other five, with Giles, face Buffy. He moved them around so neither squad would be bunched if they had to fight on two fronts at once. Faith and Spike both have their Reapers against the wall. But Buffy's Reaper attacks them, protecting his comrades. They don't mind triple-teaming this demon before finishing off the other two. He ducks under Buffy's sword and strikes Spike with a left roundhouse kick to the chest. He blocks Buffy's sword and pushes her six feet back. Faith, who is on the Reaper's left, steps towards him. He blocks her sword with his dagger and swings for her neck. Faith ducks and sticks her sword into his stomach. Before she can pull it up his chest to gut him and finish the demon off, he knocks Faith back with a left hook. Buffy blind-sides the Reaper from his right and cuts his head off. The Reaper's head falls to the ground. The other two Reapers still cower against the wall. The, in front of Buffy, Spike, Faith, Giles and half the Potentials, something most unexpected happens. A human head pops up out of the dead Reaper's body.

SETH: Lucky thirteen!

Seth bursts out of the Reaper's body. He steps towards a very stunned Buffy. She swings her sword. He leans back out of the way, watches the blade fly by, then crushes her with a left hook. Buffy drops her sword, her legs buckle, and she collapses. Seth turns right and throws a right hook. Faith swings her sword, but his fist strikes her face before her blade can reach his flesh. She also goes down in a heap. Spike throws the Bringer knife in his left hand into the chest of the Reaper in front of him and attacks Seth from behind as he's punching Faith. As Spike plunges the dagger into Seth's neck, Seth turns around and grabs Spike's right wrist with his left hand and his shirt with his right. Spike notices the dagger is in Seth's neck up to the hilt. Seth doesn't seem to mind. He stares at Spike for half a second, looking confused.

SETH: What are you doing here?

Seth hurls Spike twenty feet in the air. Spike crashes into the wall to Seth's left and falls to the ground. Seth casually pulls the dagger out of his neck and lets it fall to the ground. He grins and looks at the long line of Potentials. He's five feet ten inches tall, slightly muscular, athletic-looking, but by no means awe-inspiring. Seth has light brown skin, bright green eyes and black hair that is slicked back and comes down just below his earlobe. He wears black boots, black cargo pants, and a sleeveless black leather vest. By now, Xander and the other five Potentials have turned around, so everyone's gotten a good look at the new man in town.

GILES: We have to get to the door.

They turn around, and see the ten Reapers are packed two-deep in front of the door. They turn around again. Buffy is still down. Seth bends his knees, picks up the Reaper's weapons, and leaps at the Potentials, who are twenty feet in front of him and twenty feet in front of the Reapers. Giles steps up in front of the girls and swings his ax at Seth. Seth hits the shaft with his left foot, knocking the ax backwards. The back of the ax head strikes Giles in the forehead, and he falls down. The Potentials scream. Kennedy takes out her crossbow and fires a bolt into Seth's chest, hitting him where his heart should be. Then she swings the metal front of the bow for his face. Seth grabs the crossbow with his right hand and hits Kennedy's chin with a left uppercut. As Kennedy flies ten feet back and falls to the ground, Seth casually pulls the bolt out of his his chest. He sees Xander to his right, swinging his own ax for Seth's neck. He knocks Xander into the back wall with a right kick to the chest. The Potentials protect Kennedy from the Reapers. At the same time, they try to force a path through the Reaper phalanx. Giles gets up. Ten feet to his right, he sees Seth grab Rose. Giles hurls his ax into Seth's back. Seth plunges the dagger into her heart. As Rose falls lifeless to the ground, Giles rushes Seth. Without looking, Seth strikes Giles with the back of his left hand. Buffy's only been down for five seconds, but she knows they've been eventful. In a situation like this, seconds are everything. She runs at Seth from behind. At the same time, Xander looks up and to his left at the window the Reapers came in through. When Seth turns to face Buffy, he runs to Kennedy and helps her up.

XANDER: There's another way out. Zora! The window!

Xander races under the window, links his hands together and holds them out. Izora steps up on them and climbs out the window. Kennedy and Xander pick up Madari and lift her up to the window. Izora grabs her hands and pulls Madari out. Seth walks towards Buffy. She throws a flying right hook kick. Seth grabs her right ankle and flings her into a metal shelf along the wall to his left. The shelf collapses on top of her. Seth picks the heavy shelf up and hurls it across the room, pinning Spike's midsection against the opposite wall. Faith is unable to come to the Potentials' aid for the moment because she's being double-teamed by the two Reapers on her side of the room. Kennedy returns to battling the Reapers in front of the door alongside Molly, Rona, Amanda and Chao-ahn. With Giles's immediate assent, Xander convinces Ariella and Fadila, who aren't in the front lines, to go out the window. As they walk across the room, Seth – having taken care of Buffy and Spike for the time being – rushes towards them. He's walking, but he comes at them so fast they would have sworn he was running. Xander grabs Fadila and pushes her into the back corner under the window. Seth raises his sword. Ariella raises hers, terrified, but ready to go down fighting. Xander grabs her from behind and throws her into the corner next to Fadila as Seth brings his sword down. Instead of slicing through Ariella's head, he cuts off Xander's left hand. Xander screams, then slowly falls to the ground in shock. Seth looks at his blade and grimaces.

SETH: Unclean.

He crushes Xander's left hand with his right foot as he throws the sword to his left. While Seth's second attack against the Potentials was going on, the Reapers were gaining ground. Standing on the landing in front of the door, they used the high ground to drive the five Potentials back. They came down from the landing and pushed on with their attack. Chao-ahn, who is in the center, was kicked to the ground. Giles interposes himself between her and the Reaper. Then he realizes he doesn't have his ax. The Reaper doesn't bother to approach Giles. Out of the corner of his right eye, Giles can see something shooting towards him. Instinctively, he ducks. At that moment, Chao-ahn stands up and steps towards the Reaper. Seth's sword goes over Giles's crouched head and lodges itself into Chao-ahn's skull. Giles looks to his left and sees her on the ground. He is horrified.

Ariella and Fadila step forward to attack Seth. He glares at them. They cower back, shellshocked. Ariella helps Fadila up, and Izora and Madari pull her out. Ella looks back, but chooses to go. She climbs up some shelves near the window, then is pulled out by those who have gone before her. Ella, Zora, Fadila and Madari sit outside along the wall, hyperventilating, staring straight ahead, listening to the sounds of battle inside, too frightened to go back in and help.

Enraged at his enemies and at himself, Giles charges the Reaper whom Chao-ahn was fighting. The demon is shocked by the boldness Rupert shows, attacking him without any weapons. Giles pushes the Reaper back to the landing, then punches him in the face. At the same time, the desperate remaining Potentials make progress. Two other Reapers retreat, leaving two out among the girls. Rona and Kennedy frantically dismember one, while Molly and Amanda chop up the other one. Meanwhile, Faith puts her sword blade into the chest of one Reaper. He falls to the ground, but holds up his weapons to protect against a mortal blow. The other Reaper stabs Faith in the lower back with his dagger. Faith cries out, then turns and swings her sword. When he blocks it with his sword, Faith knocks the Reaper on his back with a left hook kick to the chest and a straight right kick to the face. She turns around and rushes towards Seth. Buffy and Spike do likewise. Having just tossed off his sword, Seth smiles when he sees the three of them coming on strong.

SETH: Thank you so very much for bringing me here.

He kicks Buffy's sword out of her hands with a left hook kick, then spins and nails her with a left roundhouse punch and a right cross before she can react. To Seth's right, Spike throws a right hook. Seth grabs Spike's right arm and pulls it back, like he's trying to rip it off. At the same time, he blocks Faith's left hook kick with his left hand, ducks under her right roundhouse kick and grabs her left arm with his left arm when she tries a left jab. Seth pulls her towards him, head-butting Faith in the nose and knocking her down. Then he flips Spike onto his back.

SETH: Excuse the pun.

Buffy charges at him. Seth leaps by her, then turns around, so his back is to the far wall and the Hellmouth. This also puts Buffy between him and the Potentials. Seth blocks Buffy's right jab and hits her with one of his own. At the same time, Faith lands a left cross to Seth's face. He hits her in the face with a straight right kick, then downs her with a swift, powerful right roundhouse kick. Buffy kicks him in the nose with a straight right kick. With great quickness, Seth steps his left foot forward and hits her in the mouth with a right jab. As he lands the punch, Seth pivots and hits Spike's chin with a right reverse kick. Buffy throws a right hook. He grabs her right arm, kicks her in the stomach with his right foot, then floors her with a right hook. Spike leaps at Seth and bites his left cheek. Seth pushes Spike back, then steps back himself. He puts his left hand to his face, sees the blood on his left palm, then licks it. Right then, the wound disappears.

SETH: I always wondered what that stuff would taste like.

With Chao-ahn's weapons, Giles helps the four remaining Potentials drive back the Reapers. He gets a deep cut on his forehead. Amanda's right arm is slashed on the underside of her elbow. She starts bleeding badly, but can't stop fighting, lest the Reapers kill her and Molly to her left. Kennedy gets a shallow sword slash across her stomach. A dagger cuts into Rona's left shoulder. And Molly gets a stab wound on her left thigh. The Reapers, who fight with much less desperation, receive more wounds than they give. Eventually, they escape out the door. The Potentials fall to the ground, exhausted, traumatizes and injured, as Giles wipes the blood away from his eyes and goes over to help Xander, who has passed out from shock and blood loss. After ripping off his shirt and trying to use it as a tourniquet, Giles pulls out his cell phone and calls for an ambulance.

The two Reapers Faith wounded also fled. Buffy stands in front of Seth, while Faith and Spike move to his right and left flanks. Spike notices the battle ax in Seth's back. Apparently Seth hasn't. Spike knows that's not a good sign. Faith hits the right side of Seth's face with a left hook kick. Buffy kicks Seth in the stomach with her right foot, then adds a left cross. Spike sweeps out Seth's legs. He begins to fall down, but puts his hands against the ground and does a backwards handspring, getting up without ever really having fallen down. Seth leaps at Spike, knocks him back with a flying left kick to the chest, then puts Spike on his back with a right kick to the face, all before Seth's feet return to the ground. He spins and hops back towards Buffy and Faith. Seth plants his feet and blocks their punches as quickly as they can throw them. His head dodges anything that his hands can't stop. In between blocks, he hits Buffy in the nose with the back of his left hand, then hits Faith's nose with the back of his right hand. After five seconds of proving they couldn't touch him, Seth grabs Buffy's head with his left hand, grabs Faith's with his right, and slams their two heads together. Buffy and Faith fall down as Seth takes a few steps back.

SETH: It's great to be alive.

Seth vanishes as Faith, Buffy and Spike watch him from the ground. Giles's ax, which was in Seth's back, falls to the floor. Buffy turns around. Only then does she realize the full extent of the damage.


	14. The Morning After

[Xander tries to adjust to his injuries as Willow tries to comfort him. Seth returns to torment his rattled adversaries. Also, Gwen returns to Los Angeles with a big surprise for Gunn.]

A few seconds after vanishing from Sunnydale, Seth materializes on the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. He watches the sun rise over a lush, verdant landscape while standing on a glacier. Warren walks up to him. He pretends to shiver.

WARREN: Don't you want a coat? How bout a shirt? Sorry. I keep forgetting the cold doesn't bother you.

SETH: What do you want? [Warren stands to Seth's left. Seth doesn't bother to look at him]

WARREN: You're not here to see the sights. There should only be six girls left standing by now.

SETH: There were supposed to be eight when I arrived. Whose fault is that?

WARREN: No one's assigning blame.

SETH: I am.

WARREN: This biting the hand that feeds you act got stale a long time ago, Sparky.

SETH: Aren't you supposed to turn my adversaries against themselves? I'm supposed to finish the job. Most of the time, it feels like I'm starting it.

WARREN: There used to be a herd. Hundreds of girls. We've thinned them down to the prize pieces of meat, plump and juicy and ready for you to munch on. If you chewed, that is. Tell me again, what do you do besides killing?

SETH: I think about life.

WARREN: That's a boring way to kill time in between kills. But it should give you plenty of chances to think about the ones you let get away. Those girls were ripe for the picking. Helpless. Defenseless. No one to protect them. Like slaughtering sheep, except sheep don't look nearly as adorable when they're terrified. [Seth glances at Warren. Realizes he's new]

SETH: Were you a girl killer?

WARREN: Women. But I was much more that a mere killer.

SETH: No you weren't. You were a scavenger. Nothing more. I can see it in your face. Hear it in your voice. You don't deserve to look upon me.

WARREN: Okay T-1000. Let's remember who's the boss, and who's the employee. I have power of life and death over you.

SETH: I fear death far less than you fear failure. Without me, you fail.

WARREN: I won't deny a certain you scratch my back, I scratch your back symbiosis. But can we please stick to business?

SETH: Why am I killing defenseless girls?

WARREN: Because they may not always be so defenseless. And what's gotten into you, Sethy? I thought you liked the feeling of holding someone at that moment, that precious instant, when the force of life leaves their body. Isn't that what you feed off of?

SETH: I like it better when they put up a spirited defense. Speaking of touching death, why is there a vampire with the Vampire Slayers?

WARREN: He's confused about his place in the world. Used to be on our side. Then he went both ways. Now he's playing for the other team. It's a whole orientation thing. I won't bore you with the details. I hope he wasn't too much of a challenge for you.

SETH: Not enough challenge. But I expected two opponents. Now I have three opponents. But I still only have two arms. It destroys symmetry.

WARREN: So kill him. Rip his head off. Rub the dust in the Slayers' eyes.

SETH: That would restore balance. Three is an unstable number. One is always opposed by two.

WARREN: You're talking to the man who wrote the book on trios.

SETH: If the Slayers opposed the vampire, he would already be dead. He must be allied with one of them. No sense removing a wedge.

WARREN: A vampire interposed between two Slayers. Not bad. Not bad at all. Sometimes I wish I put crime on the back burner and went straight into making porno. Or, I could have mass-produced those robots. The market for that would have to be huge. Then, when I finally chose to become a crime lord, I would have been a well-capitalized crime lord. This is the problem with an afterlife. You keep second-guessing yourself. Do you know what I'm talking about?

Seth gives Warren a dismissive looks and disappears.

WARREN: Of course he does. He just refuses to bond. No matter how hard I try. And he's never appreciated me. Ungrateful child.

On Friday night, Connor's in his room, watching a dvd of "Minority Report." Something about the concept of saving people by seeing crimes before they happen interested him on the day. Angel comes in to check on his son.

CONNOR: I called Dawn. She's cool with it. And she's not telling Buffy.

ANGEL: That's not why I'm here.

CONNOR: Why are you?

ANGEL: To talk. Check on how you were handling everything. See if you wanted to go patrolling.

CONNOR: Maybe later.

ANGEL: What about training? There's still a lot I need to teach you.

CONNOR: Maybe tomorrow. Okay. Okay?

Angel wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was staring at the television screen. Connor shrugs and ignores his father. After a few seconds, Angel walks out into the hallway, looking dazed. Cordelia passes by him.

CORDY: Is something wrong? Besides, you know, Connor's vision hand-off. Of all the girls in the world . . . do you think he likes her because he knows you'll disapprove?

ANGEL: The guy I beat up. He was just talking to Tom Cruise.

CORDY: You're losing me, Angel.

ANGEL: In the movie Connor's watching.

Cordelia takes a few seconds to think this through.

CORDY: Oh!! You mean Colin Farrell. [by now they're in the lobby with Fred, Lorne, Gunn and Wes]

FRED: What about Colin Farrell?

CORDY: Angel beat him up. I mean Angelus did.

FRED: That was you!

ANGEL: You heard about it?

LORNE: It was E.T. and Access Hollywood. Plus the cover story in US Weekly. Since when did Angelus tee-off against celebrities?

WES: And why didn't you kill him? [Lorne and Fred give him a funny look] Not that I'm saying I wish you had. But it seems strange for Angelus to attack a human and NOT kill him.

ANGEL: Is he all right?

LORNE: Yeah. Just a minor skull fracture. The pr seemed to help him. Boosted his tough guy bonafides. So, in a way, you did the guy a favor by brutally assaulting him. Where did you two meet?

ANGEL: Some fancy party. The guy was getting on my nerves. He was copying me! The hair. The clothes. The accent.

FRED: He's Irish. And you haven't had an accent since, what, the nineteenth century?

GUNN: I bet you killed people for flimsier reasons. So why didn't you kill him?

ANGEL: Because I didn't want to bother. The only reason I hit him was because he was all in-my-face after Britney Spears started coming on to me. I think she was his date. Or, one of his dates. I did kill the other one. I think she was a model. [Lorne, Fred, Gunn and Wes looked rather shocked at the casual namedropping]

FRED: You're making this all up, right?

CORDY: Trust me. He's not.

WES: I'm sorry. But it's obvious you're putting us on. If that really happened, Britney Spears be dead. Angelus surely would have killed her.

GUNN: Or turned her into a vampire.

ANGEL: I had my eyes on the model. I killed her instead.

WES: That's so unlike you. Unlike Angelus, I mean. I figure he would have leapt at the opportunity. After all, she's young, famous -

CORDY: Blonde.

ANGEL: I didn't recognize her.

CORDY: That still doesn't explain away the blonde part.

ANGEL: You're on the hunt, you pick out a victim, you focus on that victim until you've killed them.

GUNN: You get homicidal tunnel vision?

ANGEL: Yes. She was distracting me. He was annoying me. So I brushed her off and knocked him out before going on my way.

WES: When you say she was coming on to you, what precisely does that entail? Was she flirting with you? Giving you friendly glances?

ANGEL: Please. She was all over me.

GUNN: And you could care less?

ANGEL: The accent was a turn-off. Pet peeve of mine. Sure, if I had known who she was, I definitely would've killed her. For the prestige value alone. Angelus would've done the same to that idiot who looked like Spike that she ran off to after I rejected her.

CORDY: Spike does NOT look like Justin Timberlake.

ANGEL: I meant he looked like Spike's son.

CORDY: Now there's a haunting and disturbing image.

ANGEL: If he had one. Which he can't. Unless he's completely hell-bent on copying me in every possible way. Which is exactly what he seems to be up to.

GUNN: And none of 'em have a clue how close they came to dyin'.

ANGEL: No, I probably would've sired those two and sent them to Sunnydale so to meet Buffy and Spike. Angelus's idea of a practical joke.

CORDY: [laughing] The looks on their faces. That would have been priceless. [the others look at her funny] I don't mean I wish that had happened. It's just – you'd understand if you knew them, and didn't have a funny bone paralyzed by serial killer guilt.

WES: In hindsight, I understand completely why Angelus refused to kill Britney and Justin. He was evil, after all.

Angel goes back into Connor's room.

CONNOR: What do you want now?

ANGEL: Nothing. I just wanted to spend time with my son. Is that too much to ask for?

CONNOR: So you wanna see the movie?

ANGEL: No. That's okay. You've already started it. And I don't like jumping in halfway through.

CONNOR: I can go back to the beginning.

ANGEL: You don't have to go to all that trouble.

CONNOR: What trouble?

ANGEL: I'm sure you'd get bored seeing the same stuff over again.

CONNOR: I wasn't that far in. It's no big deal.

ANGEL: Well. If you don't mind.

CONNOR: I take it you want to go hunting after.

ANGEL: Patrolling.

CONNOR: Whatever. [Angel sits down on the edge of the bed, to the right of Connor] You haven't seen this before?

ANGEL: I think it came out when I wasn't on dry land. [Connor feels stupid]

CONNOR: You gonna keep bringing that up?

ANGEL: I was just answering your question.

CONNOR: I've changed.

ANGEL: I know.

CONNOR: Good. So how bout from now on you only get on my case for things I did A.D.?

ANGEL: What?

CONNOR: You know. After Dawn.

Angel groans, lies back on the mattress and looks up at the ceiling. He knows his son is smart enough to realize how mentioning Dawn gets him upset. Angel suspects Connor's doing it on purpose, just to piss daddy off.

Buffy sits next to Willow in the hospital waiting room. Buffy looks down at the floor, saying nothing, not making eye contact. Willow looks straight ahead, occasionally closing her eyes as if about to cry. After getting patched up, Faith sits next to Buffy. She looks downward and to her right, away from Buffy and Willow. It's four in the morning. The waiting room is empty except for them. Every few minutes, a nurse or an intern walks across the hallway behind them. Every twenty minutes or so, a doctor is mentioned over the intercom. Otherwise, it's completely quiet, save for the whirring of the fans in the ventilation shafts. As the minutes and hours go by, the women remain essentially frozen. Words and movement seem so futile at a time like this. At home, Madari, Izora, Ariella and Fadila sit at random places throughout the living room, unable to sleep. Giles sits on the porch, looking out at the dark and empty street. Anya sits to his left, her right hand on his left hand, trying to comfort him. Andrew sits in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. When Spike drove the four unharmed Potentials home in his windshield-less car, and Willow raced to the hospital in Buffy's car, he knew something major was going on. But no one was talking. Not even Giles when he came came home from the hospital, except a few words to Dawn and Anya. Andrew could tell people had died. But he didn't know how many. All he knew was that seven people, include both Slayers, had not returned home.

In the basement, Dawn was trying to learn what happened from Spike. He sat on his bed, smoking. She figured he'd be the least emotionally scarred, and thus the most likely to give information.

SPIKE: I know you mean well. But can you hold off on the Nancy Drew routine until the morning?

DAWN: I don't want a blow-by-blow. Just tell me what did this, so we can find out what it is and see if it has any weaknesses.

SPIKE: Lucky thirteen. Lucky bloody thirteen.

DAWN: What's that?

SPIKE: Its first words. Buffy killed the Reaper, and there it was.

DAWN: The thirteenth Reaper. That means it came when there were twelve left. This is one time I really hate to be right.

SPIKE: I couldn't stop it. I didn't do a sodding bit of good for anyone. Some bloody good hero I am.

DAWN: What did "It" look like? Uber-vamp? Giant monster?

SPIKE: Bono.

DAWN: What??

SPIKE: Circa Joshua Tree. Except taller. And homicidal.

DAWN: How tall?

SPIKE: About my height.

DAWN: So this super-demon looked like a normal guy? Nothing special?

SPIKE: He teleported out of the basement. That's special in my book.

DAWN: And he was he too fast and strong for Buffy or you to hurt him?

SPIKE: Knife in the neck. Ax in the back. Didn't even faze him.

DAWN: Okay. That's something. A normal-looking guy who teleports and isn't hurt by edged weapons. I'll look in the books, ask Anya if any of this rings a bell.

SPIKE: Something tells me it won't.

DAWN: Why does this guy have you so rattled? Is he really that much tougher than anything you've ever seen?

SPIKE: He came out of nowhere.

DAWN: You said he came out of a Reaper.

SPIKE: Metaphor, pet.

DAWN: Oh. Sorry.

SPIKE: Things had been going well. We were peeling off Reapers here and there. The niblets went to school. It was all so bloody, –

DAWN: Stable?

SPIKE: Right. We got into a safe, comfy routine. Then, in a couple seconds, everything goes to hell. Back to painful, unpredictable reality.

On Saturday morning, Gunn gets out of the shower and walks into his bedroom. He puts on his pants, grabs a shirt and walks into the living room. He sees Gwen. The highlights are gone from her hair. She wears black jeans and a black t-shirt. No gloves.

GUNN: Gwen.

GWEN: Surprised?

GUNN: Sure wasn't expecting you. Would've put some clothes on if I had.

GWEN: [smirks] Then it's a good thing I didn't call ahead. [Gunn puts his t-shirt on] Is Angel back?

GUNN: Yeah. So's Cordy. The old, nice Cordy.

GWEN: I suppose that's possible. In theory.

GUNN: Not that I mind you breaking in, but why didn't you just stop by the hotel?

GWEN: I wanted to show you first. [Gunn raises his eyebrows]

GUNN: Show me what?

GWEN: Do you notice anything different about me?

GUNN: You trying out a new look?

GWEN: It's more than a look. [steps towards Gunn. he moves back] Don't be scared. I won't hurt you. Trust me.

Gwen reaches her right hand out and touches the left side of his head. She keeps her hand there for a few seconds and smiles at Gunn. He stands there, breathless, then puts his left hand on her right hand and slowly pulls it down from his face. She interlaces her fingers with his. Gwen remains quiet as Gunn thinks.

GUNN: Something happened to you in Malta.

GWEN: I lost my power.

GUNN: How? [takes his hand away from hers for the time being] How did you make it stop?

GWEN: There was something in Malta called the Ashk. A long time ago, there was a daughter of some king who had a problem like mine. Her father had some scientists and magicians create this tiny thing which made it stop.

GUNN: So you took it and, viola?

GWEN: I wish. Had to ram the thing through my nose into the base of my brain. [Gunn grimaces] Trust me, it's a lot more painful than it sounds. But a lot less painful than all the times I would be getting hit by lightning if I was still charged-up.

GUNN: So you're, because you got that thing, you're, you're -

GWEN: Done being a freak?

GUNN: Hope not. I know I'm not done.

GWEN: Charles. You're hardly a freak.

GUNN: Gwen, I kill demons for a living.

GWEN: Okay. If you look it that way.

GUNN: So what happens now? What are you going to do with your new life? That's pretty much what you've gotten.

GWEN: It is. Guess I'm done being a thief. That's one thing I can't do. But there are, [looks in his eyes] so many other, [smiles] things, I can do. [Puts her left hand on his heart. It's racing. He pulls her hand away. She looks embarrassed] I'm sorry. God. I feel so stupid.

GUNN: Don't. [puts his right hand on her left shoulder] It's not that I don't, or do, or, what I mean is, this is a huge shock. Surprise. I meant surprise.

GWEN: Right. You see, I've never done these, social, people-to-people things before. All these normal things are totally new to me.

GUNN: I get that. So when did you get back in town?

GWEN: Last night.

GUNN: Now how come I get the honor of being the first to hear your good news?

GWEN: What makes you think you were first?

GUNN: Oh. [looks embarassed]

GWEN: Kidding. [smiles] You're kind of the closest thing I have to a friend. Of all the people I've killed, you've been the coolest about it. You never treated me like a freak. And now I'm not.

GUNN: Thanks. For someone who's new this whole thing, you're damn good at making a guy feel special. I know you've done some pretty serious amateur demon fighting. If you're thinking of going pro, you know where to look for a job.

GWEN: That's sweet – in a violent, life-threatening way. But I have money. Enough to give me the chance to take my time figuring out what I want to do with my life. I'll be around. You know where to find me, if you want to talk, or something.

GUNN: Feel free to break in anytime you want.

GWEN: Or I could call and then walk through the door.

GUNN: If you feel like trying something new. I'm glad you surprised me this time. Cause I get a lot of surprises. But hardly any of them are good.

Gwen hugs Charles. Embracing a warm body is something new for her.

GWEN: I'll try to keep in touch.

Gwen leaves. Gunn stands there and thinks about this new development for a little while.

Around sunrise, Faith left the hospital and walked home. She crashed downstairs, across the basement from Spike. Giles is in the kitchen, having coffee with Anya. Dawn is in the dining room, doing fruitless research.

ANYA: Rupert, I understand your need for guilt. But unkillable monsters are a guiltless phenomenon. There was nothing you could do.

GILES: I could have done more to protect them. I barely even stood in his way.

ANYA: Two Slayers couldn't stand in his way. You fought. You were brave.

GILES: Not brave enough.

ANYA: Oh. I know what this is. Xander suffered worse than you. So which is it: do you wish you were dead, or just badly injured? And how bad of an injury would take away this guilt? Which body part do you wish that demon lopped off?

GILES: Anya, I know you mean well, but this is the wrong time for your endearingly clumsy literalism.

ANYA: No. It's the perfect time. You losing an appendage would not have saved either of those girls. Have you seen Patton?

GILES: [rubs his eyes] Pardon?

ANYA: There's a line where he – or, actually, the actor playing him – says something about how no one wins a war dying for his country. He wins by making the other son of a bitch die for his country. It's the same way with what we do. Dying would not have killed the Big Bad. You being alive will help kill him. And help save the rest of the girls. I know you, Rupert. Usually you're annoyingly intelligent. But when people you love are in trouble, you leave behind all your good sense and do whatever you can to save them. And I'm sure that's what you did tonight. So don't go around wishing you proved your manhood by getting sent to the emergency room, because you've already proved it.

GILES: Thank you, Anya.

ANYA: Great. Now can you please go back to being annoyingly intelligent? That's the side of you we need right now.

GILES: Patton? It didn't know you like war movies.

ANYA: Xander does. [she gets choked up] I saw it with him. [once again, Giles looks guilty] Stop it. I know he doesn't want to start a contest where the men around here vie to see who can suffer most for the cause. Except, perhaps, if the winner of that contest were Spike. Or, maybe Andrew. But definitely not you.

GILES: I just keep replaying it in my mind, wondering if I could have done something different.

ANYA: Rupert, stop replaying last fight. And please start preparing for the next one. Because if you can't rouse yourself, not to mention everyone else, out of this post-traumatic funk, we're all going to die. And then you'd feel even worse about yourself.

Giles takes her right hand in both of his hands.

GILES: You would have made a wonderful wife.

Anya looks alarmed and rips her hand away.

ANYA: You need sleep. You're exhausted, you're grieving, you're vulnerable, and you're not thinking straight.

GILES: I meant for Xander.

ANYA: Oh. Thank you. That's, so much less creepy. But it's still just the post-traumatic insomnia talking, right?

GILES: Hello Dawn.

Anya turns around and sees her.

ANYA: Hi Dawny. Giles is a little out of sorts right now. Please try not to take his professions of love seriously.

DAWN: [looking confused] I just wanted to ask you about our new demon. Giles probably told you what he saw. I already told you what Spike told me he saw. Does it sound like anything you know or heard of?

ANYA: He doesn't sound like a demon. He sounds more like a human who used magical power to render himself temporarily invincible and able to teleport. But obviously that's not the case. He came out of a demon. He's being controlled, as was possibly created, by the First. So I'm thinking synthetic designer demon. Like the Reapers, but much more advanced.

DAWN: So it doesn't ring a bell?

ANYA: Not a clue, Dawny.

DAWN: We have one clue. There's a thin, clear film on Giles's ax. We could scrape it off and do some chemical analysis. But that's more Willow's department, so I should wait until she gets back.

Around 11:30 Saturday morning, about fourteen hours after the fight, Buffy and Willow were allowed in to see Xander. He is lying on his hospital bed. They slowly approach him, looks of dread and remorse on their faces.

XANDER: They said I'll have to wait two or three days to get my hook. Apparently, there's some sort of waiting list.

Buffy and Willow look at the bandages around the end of Xander's left arm. Buffy starts crying. Xander being brave and making jokes only causes her to feel even guiltier. Willow walks over and stands at Xander's left. Buffy stands to his right. She takes his right hand and continues crying. Xander looks pale and glum, though not nearly as broken up as his best friends.

XANDER: Cheer up, Buffy. It's not the end of the world. And for us, that really means something.

BUFFY: I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

XANDER: It wasn't your fault. I'm the one who chose to jump in the path of a moving sword.

Still crying, Buffy leaves the room. It's too much for her to take.

WILLOW: How are you? I know. Dumb question. But, seeing you here, like this, I just can't . . . I've been here all night, thinking of what I could possibly say that wouldn't be insensitive or overwrought, and all I could think of was, I'm so glad you're alive. Buffy, Giles, they didn't want to talk about what happened to you. At first, I didn't know how bad it was, or wasn't. So I feared the worst. And, in one way, this is the worst, but then it isn't. I don't know. No sleep and much coffee make Willow more rambly than usual. [for the first time since the injury, Xander smiles]

XANDER: I've always liked your ramble.

WILLOW: And I've always liked that you liked it. I just keep thinking back to the little things. Like in Mrs. Smith's class, when you copied off me on all the spelling quizzes. And I let you because, well, I wasn't really the type to say no. Especially to my bestest bud in the whole world. So, then, one time, I missed a couple on purpose. Real obvious. Astronaut with two g's. So the teacher finally caught you.

XANDER: She made me stay after school. Then sent a letter to my parents. I was mad at you.

WILLOW: You wouldn't even speak to me.

XANDER: Until you forged my parents' signatures on the letter. Which, by then, you had gotten surprisingly good at.

WILLOW: Did they ever see a single one of your report cards?

XANDER: Kindergarten. No grades. Just something about how I shared toys and played well with others.

WILLOW: And here we are, sixteen years later, and nothing's changed. And everything's changed. About a thousand times over.

Wesley sits at Angel's desk, doing research. Gunn enters.

GUNN: You know anything about some tiny magical object called the Ashk?

WES: Ashk. Let me think. You wouldn't be referring to the Ashk Az Nishapur, sometimes improperly abbreviated as the Ashkaz, would you?

GUNN: Maybe. Is it really small and able to alter people's powers?

WES: Yes. That's exactly what it's reputed to do. [stands up. walks towards Gunn] Why are you asking me about this?

GUNN: I heard someone had it in town. So what is it? Is it dangerous?

WES: It's a small, tear-shaped charm fashioned out of amber. And, yes, it could be extremely dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.

GUNN: So it's been used in the past?

WES: Yes. I believe it has. [he scans the bookshelves, pulls out a volume and flips through the pages until he finds what he's looking for] Here we go. Created in Khurasan in the tenth century for a Saffarid emir. Plundered by the invading Seljuks during the eleventh century. Taken from them in the early twelfth century by the Assassins. They were unable to harness its power, and gave the Ashk to the Knights of Saint John as a gift when the Crusaders and Assassins formed an alliance before their unsuccessful attempt to seize Damascus in 1147. Though the Knights also proved unable to use the charm, they held onto it, fearful of letting it fall into the hands of the wrong enemy. They took it to Cyprus. Then to Malta, where it disappeared after Napoleon's invasion in 1798. It was last rumored to be Lorraine or Westphalia.

GUNN: Looks like it never left Malta. That's where Gwen found it.

WES: I knew you were hiding something.

GUNN: Once I told you that, I knew you'd be the one asking the questions. So I wanted to get mine answered first.

WES: An item like that could go for millions on the black market.

GUNN: Then she stuck a few mill up her nose. And into her brain.

WES: Why would Gwen want to make herself more powerful?

GUNN: She didn't. Gwen made herself powerless. [Wesley's suspicion turns to shock]

WES: She no longer emits electricity?

GUNN: No. [smirks] Least not in the zapping, shocking sense.

WES: Incredible. The Ashk must be capable of regulating and normalizing her neuro-electric signals. Or it acts as some sort of dampener. Either way, that's quite ironic. The assumption always was that the Ashk gave people powers. What if it was meant to take them away?

GUNN: She said it was made for a king's daughter.

WES: The emir. He had a daughter with Gwen's affliction? No. It could have been something different. But similar. [pauses. looks confused] How did she, er, install the device? Did she just shoved it in? [grimaces]

GUNN: She did say it was mad painful.

WES: It must have been. But I also suppose it was worth it.

GUNN: She seemed happy.

WES: She'll probably have to find a new career, of course.

GUNN: Being a high-priced thief, I'm sure she built up a nice little nest egg.

WES: True. [thinks for a few seconds] Gwen can now touch people. Living people. For the first time in her entire life. And you were the person she chose to reach out to first.

GUNN: It ain't like she's got many other warm-blooded friends.

WES: For your sake, I hope she sees you as more than that.

It's the middle of the afternoon. Everyone is back home, except for Xander, who is still in the hospital, and Willow, who was at her college's chemistry lab trying to analyze the traces of Seth she scraped off of Giles's ax. Molly, Rona, Amanda and Kennedy are back at the house, stitched and bandaged up. Kennedy is resting upstairs with Willow. Dawn is in her room. Buffy is in her room. She's not sure what to say to the Potentials. Buffy isn't used to a war of attrition. Faith is in the basement, playing darts with Spike. He got past the "hot Slayer I never tried to kill" fixation a few days after she got past the "hot vampire with a soul I propositioned but never got a chance to nail" fixation. Of course, she got over that only a few hours after meeting Spike. With the tension gone, Spike doesn't really talk her up that much. Faith likes that. Especially now, when she doesn't feel like talking. Andrew sits in a chair in the living room, watching television with Molly, Rona and Amanda. The other Potentials are in the back of the living room and in the sitting room, reading. Giles and Anya are doing research in the dining room.

Suddenly, Seth destroys the somber silence. He materializes in the middle of the living room. He overturns Andrew's chair, sending him falling forward into the coffee table. Xander's rebuilt it out of maple, so it holds together. Were it not for the spell, Andrew's chin would have slammed into the table and started bleeding. Shaken but uninjured, he stands up and turns around.

ANDREW: Hey! That was rude. Ughh . . . who are you? And why is everyone looking so scared?

SETH: Because they know they're about to die.

Surprised by the sudden entrance of their murderous, unkillable foe, the Potentials panic. Ella, Zora, Madari and Fadila rush into the kitchen and think of fleeing out the back door. Giles rushes into the kitchen and grabs them.

GILES: Stop. He can't hurt you in here.

The girls remember the sanctuary spell. Meanwhile, Buffy hears the commotion and rushes downstairs. So do Dawn, Willow and an injured Kennedy, who's grabbing the laceration on her stomach. Anya followed Giles into the kitchen. They dart into the back of the living room to get a look at Seth. Faith and Spike come upstairs. While Buffy is coming down the stairs, Seth grabs Amanda's jaw with his right hand and tries to snap her neck. He can't. When he took hold of her chin, Molly reached out and grabbed Seth's right arm, trying to pull it away from Amanda. Seth tries to punch her with his left fist. She instinctively flinches, just as Amanda instinctively screamed when Seth tried to kill her. But nothing happens. Seth backs up a step and shakes his head.

SETH: Something is very wrong here. [Andrew stands in front of him and looks Seth in the eyes]

ANDREW: Yes. You are. You don't belong here, scumbag. Get out.

Remembering the spell, Andrew realized this is his one chance to act tough in front of a real super-villain. Seth starts laughing. Buffy steps into the living room.

BUFFY: You heard the . . . (man? boy?) Andrew. Hit the road.

Seth turns around and throws a right hook, which Buffy blocks. Before she can do a counter-move, he throws a quick and sharp left jab which would have slammed into her nose where it not for the spell. By now, Seth knows what's going on. He looks around at all the people looking at him, holds out his arms and chuckles.

SETH: Nice trick. I should have known it wasn't going to be THIS easy. Answer this one fore yourselves: If it wasn't for the magic, how many of you would be dead by now?

Seth gives them a vicious smile and vanishes. Rona pulls back the curtain and looks out the bay window.

RONA: Buffy. We still got company.

Buffy looks out the window to the left of the front door. Everyone crowds around the living room and dining room windows. They see ten Bringers on the front lawn. Buffy and Faith run to the weapons chest. Giles heads them off.

GILES: What do you think you're doing? They can't harm us.

BUFFY: So we're just going to let the First's shock troops camp out in my front yard?

GILES: Can't you see what's going on? They're trying to draw you into an unfair fight.

BUFFY: We can take them.

SPIKE: I can't. Not while the sun's out.

DAWN: Half the Potentials are too hurt to fight.

Buffy looks around. The four healthy Potentials. The two Slayers. Giles, Anya, Dawn and Willow. Plus Andrew.

BUFFY: It's still eleven-on-ten. This is our chance. They think we're aren't ready. That we're too hurt to fight. They're overconfident, and we'll use that against them.

WILLOW: Maybe they're not the only ones who are overconfident. [Buffy glares at Willow. She doesn't like being second-guessed when the enemy is literally at her doorstep]

GILES: If we only had to worry about them, maybe you'd be right. But once you step out that door, I can guarantee that our frustrated new enemy will teleport right back here. [Buffy considers this]

BUFFY: Good point. You're right. It's a trap. I should have seen it. [Buffy goes back to mentally beating herself up]

FAITH: Wait. We leave the house, we're still only twenty feet from safety. Bad Boy returns, me and B can hold him off long enough for the girls to run back inside.

SPIKE: Then what? He gets the chance to kill one of you? [Buffy's getting her confidence back]

BUFFY: He doesn't want to kill us. Last night, he didn't even try to use a weapon on us. He just, well -

SPIKE: Beat the snot out of us?

BUFFY: I was going to say he tried to establish dominance. Prove we couldn't defend the Potentials.

Dawn does a mental head count. She was included among the eleven Buffy wanted to fight. That meant Buffy believed in her. Wait. Buffy must have also included Andrew. That seriously diluted the "honor." She also realized Giles was not going to let any of the Potentials outside, and assumed Buffy's and Faith's pleading was in vain. So Dawn went back upstairs to watch the Reapers from Buffy's bedroom window. As Buffy, Faith and Giles argued over what to do, Zora, Fadila, Ella and Madari got together and whispered to one another. Then they ran downstairs and grabbed three crossbows, plus some arrows. Fadila found an old rag and tied it around the end of one of the arrows. Then she found a can of WD-40 and soaked the rag in it. She picked up Spike's lighter and put it in her pocket. The four of them return to the first floor. Madari grabbed the fire extinguisher. The other three go upstairs to the second floor. No one notices. Izora and Ariella go into Willow's bedroom. Fadila goes into Buffy's.

DAWN: What's going on? [Fadila hands her the lighter]

FADILA: Can you light this for me? [Dawn hated how the Potentials disrespected her. She also suspected Fadila was up to something foolish]

DAWN: You're going to light a wooden arrow. A wooden arrow that's attached to a wooden weapon. And the stick it out the window of a wooden house. Do you see what I'm getting at, Fadila? [two could play at condescending]

FADILA: That's why you're going to light it right before I shoot it. Do it fast, it works.

DAWN: I take it Buffy and Giles don't know about this?

FADILA: Do you always do what Buffy says?

DAWN: Fine. [goes to open the curtains. Fadila stops her]

FADILA: Not yet.

She reaches through the curtains and opens the window while leaving them drawn so the Reapers can't see them. Izora and Ariella do the same in Willow's room. Then Ella pulls the curtains open. Zora leans forward and shoots across the lawn, hitting the Reaper on her far right in his right eye. Zora pulls back, Ella leans forward and hits the Reaper on the far left in his left eye. To their right, peaking out from the curtains in Buffy's room, Fadila sees the Reapers getting hit. That's her signal. She pulls back the curtains and leans forward, aiming at a Reaper in the middle. Dawn lights the rag. Fadila pulls the trigger. The flaming arrow hits a Reaper in his left hip. His jacket catches fire. The people at the downstairs windows start talking to each other. Buffy, Willow Faith and Giles notice the hubbub and rush to the windows.

BUFFY: What the hell?

GILES: Who's doing that?

He looks around, trying to figure out who's missing. Madari quietly stands in the foyer, holding a fire extinguisher and peaking out the window. Buffy and Willow race upstairs and burst into their rooms. Outside, the Reaper with an arrow in his right eye runs into the street and rips off a sewer grate. The one with an arrow in his left eye retreats towards the grate. The flaming Reaper sprints into the street and leaps down into the storm sewer. The other two injured Reapers also jump in. The seven remaining Reapers try to spot the shooters. Ella and Fadila immediately closed the curtains after firing. Confused by the ambush and the frightening injuries sustained by their comrades, the seven remaining Reapers retreat down the road and out of sight. Buffy and Willow enter their rooms just as Ella, Zora, Fadila and Dawn are leaving them. Dawn realizes they're in big trouble.

NEXT: A new Big Bad decides to see just how much he can make Angel suffer.


	15. Unwelcome Visitors

Connor's friend Elijah comes to Los Angeles and makes a bad first impression with Angel and Cordy. Willow finds out more information on their Big Bad. And someone kidnaps Angel in the dead of night.

BUFFY: What were you doing in my room? [at first Fadila thinks this is a rhetorical question. It is, but Buffy still wants to hear the answer.]

FADILA: Fighting back.

BUFFY: And what if they fought back?

ARIELLA: We're in the house.

BUFFY: They could still kill you with a knife thrown from outside. Or, what if the one who caught on fire decided to run in here? Wait. Madari had the fire extinguisher. Come down with me.

Fadila, Izora, Ariella and Dawn go down the stairs, with Willow and Buffy right behind them. Giles takes the four Potentials into the dining room. Buffy corrals Dawn into the kitchen.

DAWN: You think I was in on this?

BUFFY: So you were just an innocent bystander?

DAWN: I went upstairs to watch. Then Fadila came in.

BUFFY: And you sat and watched her light up and open fire? I could smell the smoke in my room.

DAWN: Not exactly.

BUFFY: You tried to stop her?

DAWN: Yes. I did. But when that didn't work, I lit up the arrow for her.

BUFFY: That would explain why the lighter's in you pocket. [Dawn looks down and wonders why she was stupid enough not to ditch the evidence]

DAWN: I thought that was safer than letting Fadila do it herself.

BUFFY: Taking the arrow away from her would have been even safer.

DAWN: Since when was I supposed to look after the Potentials?

BUFFY: You're supposed to look after the house.

DAWN: Okay. I get it. I'm sorry. It was a split-second thing. I wasn't thinking. [concealing the vision thing from Buffy makes her more likely to give ground on lesser matters. Buffy, meanwhile, knows Dawn is the least to blame of the five people involved.]

BUFFY: It's okay, Dawny. No one got hurt.

MADARI: You were busy. So was Buffy.

ARIELLA: It just seemed more, I don't know, efficient to do it ourselves.

GILES: You put all of us at risk.

IZORA: Always. We always have. That's what we do here.

FADILA: Look, Mister Giles, we had the extinguisher. We planned ahead. Nothing bad was going to happen. In fact, something good happened. They left. Because of what we did. [Buffy enters]

BUFFY: We weren't in any danger. We couldn't kill them. Nothing could be gained from attacking them.

ARIELLA: What could be gained by not fighting back?

BUFFY: You four aren't the only ones who live in this house. You're not in a position to decide what's best for the rest of us.

GILES: We don't want to punish anyone. Promise me you won't do anything like this again, and we'll be done with this matter. [the four girls assent] Thank you. [Buffy is shocked. Giles takes her arm and they walk into the kitchen.]

BUFFY: I don't believe this. They use Willow's room as a shooting platform. They light fires in my room. Near the curtains. Do you know what could have happened?

GILES: But it didn't. And it won't.

BUFFY: You really think they learned their lesson? After getting let off without even a slap on the wrist?

GILES: They did what they needed to. And they won't need to do it again.

BUFFY: You think what they did was right?

GILES: No. But I understand why they thought it was right. Don't you?

BUFFY: They thought they could hurt the enemy without getting hurt back.

GILES: Every girl is dead or injured. Except for them. Because they ran away.

BUFFY: Which was what they were supposed to do. They did exactly what we wanted them to.

GILES: Yes. But that doesn't make them feel any less guilty.

BUFFY: It's not their job to protect the other Potentials. That's my job.

GILES: I see they're not the only ones feeling guilty.

BUFFY: We all feel guilty. Every one of us. Even if we shouldn't. But that doesn't mean we should act on the guilt. That's the last thing we should do.

GILES: Not everyone possesses your self-control.

BUFFY: Maybe I should talk to them.

GILES: No. I don't think they believe they let you down. I think they believe they let the other girls down.

BUFFY: Then Kennedy should talk to them.

GILES: I know you mean well, but it would seem forced. The eight of them will be . . . sequestered inside this house for at least today. Probably longer. That will give them plenty of time to discover that the other girls don't blame them for what happened.

On Saturday night, Connor walks into the lobby in jeans and an olive green t-shirt over top of a black long-sleeve t-shirt.

ANGEL: Is that what you're wearing to the theater?

CONNOR: Theater? Oh! I forgot to tell you. I'm going out tonight with Eli.

ANGEL: I'm sorry. You're doing what with who?

CONNOR: Eli. From Sunnydale. He's in town.

ANGEL: Who again is Eli?

CORDY: Dawn's best friend's boyfriend. The blonde kid.

ANGEL: Oh. But why didn't you tell me you had plans when I bought the tickets?

CONNOR: That was Tuesday. Eli called on Thursday. I guess, with everything going on with Dawn, and the visions, the theater thing slipped my mind. [Connor leaves the lobby and goes back to his room to get his wallet]

FRED: What theater thing? You're taking Connor to a movie?

ANGEL: No. I was going to take him to see Les Mis.

GUNN: Les Mis? [chuckles] I'm sorry. You just don't strike me as the song-and-dance type.

ANGEL: Usually I prefer the classics: Frank Loesser, Rogers and Hammerstein, Kander and Ebb. But Les Mis is a timeless story about redemption, honor, defending the oppressed, helping the helpless.

CORDY: Over-identify much?

WES: You don't worry Connor will sympathize with Javert?

ANGEL: Why would he?

LORNE: A man who spends his life trying to track down a good guy for something he did in the distant past. Come on, Angel food.

ANGEL: Holtz? Javert is NOTHING like Holtz. Okay, maybe there are a few, small, surface similarities. But Javert had honor. They both killed themselves. But Javert took his own life rather than arrest a fugitive who had saved him. They're very different.

CONNOR: Who are? [Angel sees that Connor has returned. Everyone gets a little nervous]

ANGEL: Nothing. We were just talking about characters from the musical you're not going to see tonight.

CONNOR: We can do that some other time. But Eli's only in town for the weekend.

ANGEL: What about patrolling? Saturday's a busy night. I thought we were going to dust the bad guys together after the show. [clearly he had a whole father-son evening planned]

CONNOR: You can patrol alone for one night, can't you?

ANGEL: I thought you were looking forward to spending some time with me.

CONNOR: I'll be here tomorrow. And, like, every other day. I don't see why you're making such a big deal about this.

FRED: Is Eli meeting you here?

CONNOR: Yeah.

GUNN: In the hotel?

LORNE: I can take a hint. [Lorne starts to walk away]

CONNOR: You don't have to go. Eli knows what we do.

CORDY: Does he know what Angel is?

CONNOR: Yeah.

CORDY: He knows your parents are vampires?

CONNOR: Sure. He's cool with it.

GUNN: And he didn't think you were trippin' when you told him that?

CORDY: He is from Sunnydale. But that's pretty open-minded, even for someone from my town.

LORNE: Did he see my show? I wonder if he wants an autograph. Stop looking at me like I'm deluded. They loved me. I was a big fish in that tiny pond.

Elijah walks through the front door.

CONNOR: What up, Eli.

ELIJAH: What up, C-dog.

Angel has a problem with anyone who would refer to his son by such a nickname. Connor and Eli slap hands and then lightly knock their fists together. Eli's happy and easy-going, until the moment he lays his eyes on Angel. After that, he looks frightened and slowly backs away a couple steps.

CONNOR: What's wrong?

ELIJAH: That's him. That's the vampire I saw killing all those people at the Bronze.

CONNOR: That's my dad.

ELIJAH: What? You said your dad was good.

ANGEL: You're both right.

ELIJAH: You're good, but you were killing people?

ANGEL: I wasn't good back then. But I was good before that. And I'm good now.

ELIJAH: So you're good, except every now and then you fall off the wagon and slaughter everything in sight?

CORDY: Only twice. Ever. And it won't be happening again. [Eli looks at Connor]

CONNOR: He's good. Don't worry about him.

ELIJAH: It's okay. I'm cool. [chuckles nervously] And I thought MY parents were embarrassing.

ANGEL: Where are you and Connor going?

ELIJAH: To see Outkast at Pauley Pavilion.

GUNN: How'd you get tickets? That's been sold-out for months.

ELIJAH: My brother goes to med school there.

GUNN: So you're a hip-hop head?

ELIJAH: Not as big a hip-hop head as Connor. [everyone's surprised]

GUNN: You never mentioned that.

ANGEL: My son's a what?

ELIJAH: I'm more of an indie rock guy. But I like De La Soul, Tribe, Roots, Organized Confusion. Connor's mostly into hard core mainstream rap. The popular stuff I think of as mediocre. Like Jay-Z.

CONNOR: I thought you said Jay-Z has mad skills but sold out?

ELIJAH: No. I think Nas has mad skills but sold out. Illmatic's a minor classic. Didn't I give you that one?

CONNOR: I don't think so.

ELIJAH: You sure? I thought I gave you Nas's and Jeru's debuts.

CONNOR: You gave me Jeru.

ANGEL: [to Gunn, Wes, Fred and Cordy] Can someone explain to me later on what my son is talking about?

ELIJAH: By the way, are you Cordelia Chase?

CORDY: [smiles] Why yes. You've heard of me?

ELIJAH: You were a sophomore when my brother was a senior. David Campbell. He played volleyball.

CORDY: You're Davey Campbell's little brother? Emphasis on little.

ELIJAH: I know. I'm the short, unathletic one in the family. By the way, we've met before.

CORDY: We have?

ELIJAH: You threatened to kill me slowly and painfully. [All of Cordy's friends look at her suspiciously, assuming she did this when she was evil.] Not that I took you seriously. You were pretty steamed after my halftime practical joke.

CORDY: Hold on. [narrows her eyes. looks angry] Was your hair dyed red?

ELIJAH: [smiles] At it was a little longer than now. Yours was a lot longer, if I remember correctly.

CORDY: You're the little creep who switched our music!

ELIJAH: It was better than that suburban techno crap you usually used. I was trying to do you girls a favor.

CORDY: You ruined our routine during the big game against Central. You humiliated us in from of a thousand people.

FRED: What did he do?

ELIJAH: I switched their normal music with the Sex Pistols. [Wes and Fred laugh] And they did their cheers and dance steps for like ten seconds before they realized something wasn't right. That was the best part. Watching them cheer to it.

LORNE: That's not a prank. That's performance art. I dig. [Cordy gives him a look of death] In theory, I dig. And so long as no one I care about gets hurt in the process.

WES: Which song of theirs did you use? "God Save the Queen"? "Pretty Vacant"?

ELIJAH: "Holiday In The Sun." It's got a nice beat. You can cheer to it. And least I thought you could.

ANGEL: Are you the sort of young man who likes to get into trouble? [Cordy's not the only one getting bad vibes from Eli]

ELIJAH: What do you mean by trouble? It's not like I ever killed anyone.

Eli smirks at Angel, since Eli knows he can't say the same thing about himself. Eli doesn't know that Cordy can't say the same thing either. After a few seconds, Lorne breaks the tense silence.

LORNE: I'm still a little in the dark about what brought you here. You came all the way from Sunnydale for a concert?

ELIJAH: No. I came for pre-frosh weekend at Cal Tech. The concert was just a lucky coincidence.

FRED: [her face lights up] You're going to Cal Tech?

ELIJAH: Next fall. Chemical engineering.

FRED: I was a Physics major myself. Then a doctoral student. Chem-E's a good field, especially at a place like Cal Tech, but, in my view, and maybe I'm a bit partial, but Physics is –

ELIJAH: The queen of the sciences. I know. My stepdad has a PhD in Physics. Then he got a job and became a glorified engineer. Seems that's what happens to all Physics people when they go out into the real world. They become engineers. Or, demon fighters, in your case. Which I'm sure is rare. What were you, experimental or theoretical?

FRED: Theoretical.

ELIJAH: What was your focus?

FRED: I didn't get far enough along to really have one. But I wrote a paper on String Theory. It got published last November.

ELIJAH: As a grad student? That's pretty good. I'll have to check it out. I've done a little reading on String Theory, but your article's still probably way over my head. Which journal?

WES: I have a copy I can loan you.

FRED: I have ten. Some of which I think are under this desk. [reaches down under "check-in" desk] Here you go. [hands him a copy]

ELIJAH: Thanks. I can show it to my stepdad, tell him Connor works with the person who wrote it. I'm sure he'd be impressed. Though he might assume Connor's like a university lab assistant or something. Vampire slaying is sort of beyond his realm of possibility.

GUNN: How long's he lived in Sunnydale?

ELIJAH: Close to ten years.

GUNN: And he's never wondered what the hell's goin' on?

ELIJAH: We've never been attacked by anything. He works in Edgemont, which is twenty miles away. At night, we're either at home, in the car, or at a mall in another town. No reason to walk the streets at night. You know, suburban sprawl and all that.

CORDY: I suppose having no social life does reduce your chances of dying.

ELIJAH: That's true. Or you could look at it as natural selection. [Cordy was hoping he'd be hurt, or at least insulted, by her put-down. She doesn't like it when people respond in kind.]

WES: But I don't see how anyone could spend years living on top of the Hellmouth and not observe something out of the ordinary.

ELIJAH: Well, there was the time my parents, and all the other parents, acted immature when the band put pot in their candy bars. I thought that was a funny prank.

ANGEL: It wasn't pot. And it wasn't funny. There were babies who almost got eaten by a giant demon.

ELIJAH: So is that what usually happens when we get the mass weirdness? Like when everyone started singing and dancing – even the people who couldn't and shouldn't – or when no one could talk? We got two days of school off, and my parents couldn't yell at me. Actually, that one wasn't so bad.

CORDY: Those were after I left.

LORNE: About the singing and dancing – were their large group numbers? Hundreds of kids at school: I could imagine so show-stopping moments.

ELIJAH: There was this thing in the hallway. Two things, actually. One before first period, the other after last period. Everyone opened and closed their lockers with the beat, we formed this long line and danced down the hallways in perfect synchronized order. And in the cafeteria, two kids were gonna fight, but they did this whole "West Side Story" thing instead. Then the lunch ladies formed a kick line. That was rather disturbing.

CORDY: Were you around for that crazy Halloween when everyone became what they were dressed as?

ELIJAH: Yes. And, ironically enough, I went as a vampire. [Angel looks alarmed] But I didn't change. And neither did any of my friends. I saw everything going surreal all around me. Suffice it to say that was the first and only time I did shrooms.

ANGEL: You must have been pretty young back then.

ELIJAH: Twelve.

ANGEL: Fairly early for someone to be taking hard drugs.

ELIJAH: It's not like I was shooting up heroin. And I haven't. Or, anything else like that. Trust me, I'm not into that stuff.

CORDY: Could you sing for us?

ELIJAH: Didn't know I had to provide the entertainment.

CORDY: For Lorne. He can read someone while they sing, and see if they have anything to hide.

LORNE: Don't worry. I've done it to all of them. Some people pay me for the privilege.

ELIJAH: I'm not a, very good, singer.

LORNE: Trust me, kiddo. In this room, that puts you in the vast majority.

ELIJAH: Fine. Long as you promise not to laugh.

LORNE: No chance of that. Usually, when they're really bad, I cry.

Elijah tries to think of something to sing. Getting his mind read is quite strange. But meeting a friend's dad who's a vampire and very well could have killed Eli two weeks ago is far stranger. He decides to go with a Fountains of Wayne song he heard in the car on the way there. It seemed simple enough, hard to mess up.

ELIJAH: "I wanna sink to the bottom with you.

The ocean is big and blue.

I just wanna sink to the bottom with you.

Out on the highway, up in the air.

Everyone else is going somewhere.

They're going nowhere, and I'll be there, too.

I'm might as well go under with you.

I wanna sink to the bottom with you."

CORDY: Okay. That's enough. Right Lorne? [By now Cordelia is deeply regretting making Elijah sing. Angel's also a little wigged. Connor doesn't make the connection.]

LORNE: You betcha. I didn't pick up any alarm bells. [Elijah doesn't know why Angel and Cordy look so uncomfortable]

ELIJAH: Was I off-key?

LORNE: No. You were fine. Better than most.

ELIJAH: [smirks] Does that mean I passed the audition?

LORNE: Yeah. Have fun.

ANGEL: Be back by midnight.

CONNOR: What?

ANGEL: You heard me.

CONNOR: You let me stay out way later than that.

ANGEL: Not with friends.

CONNOR: Come on. Two am.

ANGEL: How long is this concert?

CONNOR: Eli and his brother were gonna take me to a party after.

ANGEL: A college party. With drinking.

CONNOR: I suppose there could be vampires. And that would be a good thing. Cause I could kill 'em. Save people.

ELIJAH: I think he was referring to another kind of drinking. [looks at Angel] Do you do that kind of drinking? I know Spike does, and he also smokes, but I think that's mostly for the look.

ANGEL: You know Spike?

ELIJAH: We've hung out a bit. He's got some interesting stories about the New York punk scene. Do you two know each other? Cause every time I ask him that, he changes the subject.

CORDY: You hang out with Spike? [she says his name with a look of revulsion, as if questioning Elijah's sense of judgement]

ELIJAH: We've talked. Did you know he killed Nancy Spungeon? I mean, his girlfriend did, but it was his idea.

WES: I've heard that rumor. But why would Spike frame Sid Vicious? Sid was his idol.

ELIJAH: He claims it was more the other way around. Spike was supposed to kill Sid, but chickened out at the last minute cause there were too many drugs in Sid's blood. He said the plan was to make Sid a legend by killing him off while he was still cool. By the way, Angel. You were wearing lots of leather when I saw you. Is that a vampire thing, or just an evil vampire thing? Cause it would be nice to have a rule-of-thumb to help me avoid the bloodsuckers. No offense.

ANGEL: None taken. I don't suck. And Connor, I think midnight is more-than-fair, considering how you sprung this on me at the last minute.

CONNOR: [sneers] One am.

ANGEL: On the dot.

ELIJAH: Let me guess: you'll be up waiting for him.

CONNOR: Let's go. [Connor and Elijah exit]

ELIJAH: Is your dad always this strict?

CONNOR: Sorry about him. He can be a real hypocrite sometimes.

ELIJAH: Tell me about it. He's giving you a curfew, but two weeks ago he was killing people.

CONNOR: Your parents are probably cooler.

ELIJAH: No. Connor, all parents are hypocrites. At least your dad can have a sense of perspective about things.

CORDY: I don't trust that boy.

ANGEL: I think Eli could be a bad influence on Connor.

LORNE: When did this become Theater Of The Absurd? He's not evil. He doesn't want to kill you. I say Eli's just about the best influence junior ever had.

CORDY: He must have fooled you. I can't believe you missed the warning signs.

LORNE: He's a nice, sweet kid. No dark side. Let's be honest. If anything, Connor could be a bad influence on him.

ANGEL: What are you trying to imply about my son?

LORNE: Put it back in your holster, cowboy. All I meant was that Connor could use a nice, non-violent, vengeance-free friend.

CORDY: Didn't he seem just a little bit too easy-going about demons and vampires? If he's really so normal, that stuff would have freaked him out.

GUNN: He's from Sunnydale.

CORDY: Which means he should have a healthy fear of things that go bite in the night.

ANGEL: Did he seem a little too irreverent to you? I wouldn't want Connor copying his disrespectful attitude.

FRED: Oh, get a grip. There's nothing wrong with him. Unless you have something against brains. I think it's great that Connor likes hanging out with smart people.

CORDY: It's the smart ones you have to watch out for.

FRED: Hey!

CORDY: Not you. Just smart people who live on the Hellmouth.

WES: Am I the only one who's more worried about Connor's influence on Elijah?

GUNN: No.

LORNE: I with you on that one.

ANGEL: If you're going to badmouth my first born, stop beating around the bush and tell me what you really think.

GUNN: We ain't bad-mouthing your boy.

LORNE: But Eli's a civilian.

WES: And Connor's never been around anyone who wasn't a demon fighter. I don't think he realizes how terrifying that sort of thing can be to an outsider.

CORDY: I wouldn't be so sure he's an outsider. What's the word on his goth girlfriend who hangs around Dawn? There's gotta be a story there.

ANGEL: Did Elijah introduce my son to violent music that's degrading to women?

LORNE: How could he not? Have you listened to the radio lately?

FRED: Angel, you're like a 250 year-old Ward Cleaver.

LORNE: Talk about a big generation gap.

GUNN: Why can't you be happy that your son's made a friend? It's not like Connor gets many chances.

ANGEL: It's not like I get many chances with him either.

Early in the evening, Willow returns home with the news about her chemical analysis.

WILLOW: I don't know how to put this.

DAWN: Is he something worse than a demon?

WILLOW: He's inorganic. A non carbon-based life form.

DAWN: So what's he made of?

WILLOW: Metalloids seem to be the building blocks. Tellurium. Germanium. There's also significant amounts of bromine, nitrogen, beryllium. Very strange, to say the least.

DAWN: I thought all demons were carbon-based?

WILLOW: They are.

GILES: So he's not a demon.

WILLOW: Not a naturally-occurring one.

GILES: What about a robot?

WILLOW: Possible, but not likely. I found no trace of any transition metals.

DAWN: Does it have cells?

WILLOW: Not exactly. But it did show signs of life when I looked at it under a microscope. Things were moving.

GILES: Could they be killed?

WILLOW: It was difficult. Pressure and heat sterilization didn't do the job. Neither did fire. Acid seemed to work. But it took a long time. I think radiation might work. But the fallout would kill all of us as well.

DAWN: You're saying we should throw acid on it?

WILLOW: Based on the amount I needed to kill the sample, and assuming he weighs as much as a normal man, it would take a ton of sulfuric acid about a week to finish him off. Assuming he doesn't, you know, take a shower and wash it away in the meantime.

DAWN: But acid might hurt him?

WILLOW: It's worth a try.

GILES: Essentially then, your tests showed that he has an unknown, but extremely resilient, bio-chemical structure.

WILLOW: In a nutshell.

ANYA: What about a locator spell?

WILLOW: Tried it. Since we have a part of him, it should be easy. But I got nothing.

GILES: He can teleport. Which means there's no reason for him to camp out here. He only needs to come here when he wants to fight.

At one-twenty, Connor and Elijah return to the hotel.

ANGEL: You're late.

CONNOR: Just a little.

ANGEL: What do I smell on you? Did you take any drugs?

ELIJAH: No, but we were around people who did. It was a concert. I know what you're thinking, and I wasn't using. For one thing, I had to drive. For another, I would never bring pot anywhere near Connor. Can you imagine him with the munchies? [Gunn, Wes and Fred laugh. Angel and Cordy don't. Angel goes up to Connor and smells his breath, confirming that he didn't drink.]

CONNOR: See dad. What did Eli tell you?

ELIJAH: This is nothing. When I saw Wu-Tang in 97, my mom had to wash my shirt three times to get out the smell.

GUNN: Where'd you see them?

ELIJAH: Long Beach Convention Center. All nine of them were there. Which was pretty rare. And Dirty was coherent. Which was ever rarer.

GUNN: Was that show over the summer?

ELIJAH: Yeah. July, I think.

GUNN: I was outside, killing vamps who tried to feed on people when they left.

ELIJAH: Oh. Thanks. So you do for LA what Buffy does for Sunnydale? [Angel scoffs]

ANGEL: We all do. And I'm the leader.

ELIJAH: So you were also there?

ANGEL: Well, no. I didn't come here for another two years.

ELIJAH: [to Gunn] You've been fighting vampires longer than Angel? [Gunn thinks about this and smiles]

GUNN: You're right. I think I have.

CONNOR: Really? You never mentioned that. Maybe I should've taken your advice more seriously. [thinks] And you know this town a lot better than my dad. Maybe I should go patrolling with you.

ELIJAH: I should probably head back to my brother's couch. Great meeting all of you. Don't worry, Connor. I'll say hi to Dawn for you. And, yes, she misses you as much as you miss her.

CONNOR: Tell David thanks for the ticket. [Eli leaves]

GUNN: I really like that Elijah.

CONNOR: I do too.

GUNN: He's got such great powers of perception.

CORDY: For a supposed geek, he sure knows how to lay on the charm.

CONNOR: Cordy. David said hi. He didn't know you were in town. Told me to give you his number.

CORDY: Thanks. [Angel looks jealous] So he's training to be a doctor. Not bad. Does he have a pot belly or a bald spot?

CONNOR: No. He said he did some modeling to pay for school and played club volleyball. Bragged about playing against a few of the guys on the UCLA team. Are they any good?

CORDY: Not really. They're just, perennial national champions. What kind of modeling?

CONNOR: How would I know?

CORDY: So David remembers me. What did he say about me? What did YOU say about me!? You didn't tell him that we, or that I, you know –

CONNOR: It's not like it was something worth bragging about. [Cordy looks hurt] You didn't seem too happy with my performance, either. He told me in high school you were hot but superficial. And a cock tease. I said you were still hot, but brave and generous and always helping others. I didn't say nothing about that last thing, cause I wasn't completely sure what he meant.

CORDY: I hope you didn't make me out to be some saint.

CONNOR: No. I didn't mention the glowing, or anything like that. Just that you were one of the nicest people I ever met. And one of the hottest, of course.

CORDY: Why thank you, Connor.

CONNOR: I'm going to bed now.

CORDY: Hold on. Does he expect me to call him? Because I'm used to the guy calling me. Or, I was. It's been a really long time since I've dated.

ANGEL: You're actually going out with this guy?

CORDY: Just a friendly reunion of two Sunnydale people. It would be rude of me to blow him off.

ANGEL: But he's Buffy's sister's best friend's boyfriend's old brother. You don't find that a little creepy?

CORDY: Let's not play Six Degrees of Buffy Summers.

FRED: That was five. But it's a small town. Anyone from there will always have some incredibly tenuous connection to your ex-girlfriend.

GUNN: Yeah. And it's nothing compared to your son sleeping with your ex's sister.

ANGEL: Did you have to bring that up?

WES: To point out the absurdity of your objections? I believe he did.

ANGEL: When did everyone turn against me?

CORDY: When did you become so paranoid?

GUNN: You got a right to be paranoid. Just not about us.

ANGEL: I know that, Charles. It's just, I went through so much to get Connor back, and part of me always fears he'll be taken away again.

CORDY: That's not going to happen. Are you jealous of David?

ANGEL: What!?

CORDY: A smart, tall, athletic, good-looking guy who's interested in me. You've always been insecure about taller men.

ANGEL: How do you know he's taller than me?

CORDY: He's like six-foot-four.

ANGEL: I'm not insecure. And I'd never want to be that tall. My center of gravity would be too high. I'd be a lousy fighter. Have fun with the beanpole, Cordy. Just be prepared to save his life when a vampire knocks him on his ass.

Around five in the morning, an hour before sunrise, Angel shoots up out of bed.

ANGEL: No. No! It can't be.

He grabs his chest, buts his shirt and shoes on, and rushes downstairs.

ANGEL: This can't be happening. Not now.

Angel runs outside and heads two blocks down the empty street before falling to his knees.

ANGEL: What's going on?

A shadowy figure standing behind Angel hits him in the back of the head with a baseball bat. Angel falls on his face, unconscious. The figure picks Angel up, slings Angel over his back, and carries him away.

NEXT: Angel meets his new arch-nemesis.


	16. Angel Only Dies Twice

Angel opens his eyes and sits up. His shirt is gone. He grabs the back of his head, which is still sore. Angel looks around and realizes that he is inside a circular arena 150 feet across, with a thirty foot-high stone wall around the outside. The wall consists of six steep steps, each one five feet high and one foot wide. He looks upward. The sky is very unfamiliar. It's dark, but a sun is shining down, illuminating the everything around Angel. It reminds him of the lighting at a night baseball or football game. At the opposite end of the arena, a man stands atop the wall. Before Angel can see him, he fires a wooden arrow, which pierces Angel's heart and pins him to the ground. The man leaps down into the arena.

MAL: Don't worry. You can not die inside these walls.

His accent was very strange. Angel couldn't quite place it. He grunts and pulls the arrow out of himself, then slowly rises to his feet. The man walking towards him wears loose-fitting white pants, but no shoes or shirt. His skin is jet black, his air about an inch high, thick but not quite nappy. He isn't as bulky as Angel, but his musculature is almost comically well-defined. The man stops three feet in front of Angel and looks up into his eyes. He is an inch-and-a-half shorter than Angel.

MAL: What was it the Greeks said about my people? Tallest. Handsomest. Longest lived. Two out of three is nothing to be ashamed of. [Mal smiles and circles around Angel] I noticed you have the Mark of Aurelius. Or, as I prefer to call it, the Mark of Mediocrity. Not a very distinguished lineage. But neither was mine. [he's circled round and is now standing ten feet in front of Angel] I remember Hein as a young vampire. I believe he was the one you would have called Master. Hein had such immense raw talent. Such superb instincts. But he let it go to his head. He became a recluse. Shunned the world. Bleached his skin. Mutilated his face. Developed an obsession with eight year-old boys. (Mal was making the Master sound an awful lot like Michael Jackson. That was a comparison which had certainly never occurred to Angel) The last time I crossed paths with Hein was about three-and-one-half centuries ago. There was a woman he had sired. She was probably well before your time. Very zealous. Insatiable blood lust - and other kinds, which could be satiated. She loved it when I ripped a baby's head off and poured its blood on my [chuckles] lower parts. She ate it right up. [more chuckles from Mal] Don't you just love it when a former prostitute says you make her feel like she's doing it for the first time? That was a question. If you don't want to be friendly, your loss. So this vampire — I can't recall her name — we spent a month ravaging Central Europe. Actually, she was the European I spent most of my time ravaging. [more chuckles] The only reason I mention this was because of what she did to get me to stay. I don't go for the yellow-haired. But she was ever-so-needy. I don't like that either. Which doesn't mean I couldn't have fun with it. I made her crawl across a floor covered with broken glass, all the while begging me to stay. Of course I still left right then and there. But what an honor to receive such a show of affection! Hein was upset that I had turned his sire away from him, and he made a pathetic attempt to defend his honor. That vampire bruised very easily. Probably because he was so pale. And by then Hein was so slow that he could not hit anything quicker than a ground sloth. If I had cared to, I believe I could have made him cry. Hein was not worth effort. But you are.

ANGEL: Save the pep talk and the war stories for your drinking buddies, old man.

MAL: I lend you a compliment, and you pay me back with an insult. Don't you have any questions for me? Who am I? Why are you here?

ANGEL: I have a feeling you're about to tell me. You seem to be obvious and predictable like that.

MAL: You really have no idea who you're dealing with. I like that.

ANGEL: I could say the same about you.

MAL: You're not used to being beaten.

ANGEL: By other vampires? Never.

MAL: Good. Because I want this to be exciting. And drawn out. I don't know much about you. Nothing but hearsay. But I know that you have some very powerful friends. Important people care about you. They have a lot of faith in your power, your courage, your luck. I'm always looking for a good fight. An opponent who's like nothing else in the universe. A vampire with a soul. That's rare. But hardly unheard of. But a vampire with a child. That has never happened in my lifetime. How could I pass up such an opportunity?

ANGEL: Does this mean you're afraid to take us both on at once?

MAL: Patience. You will have you answer soon enough. As you know, I could have killed you by now. But where is the fun in that? You seem, the other thing I have heard about you was that you have an amazing capacity for pain and suffering. This is important. People are fragile. Even Slayers are all-too-breakable. Have you ever killed one when you were just getting warmed-up? Smashed their bones before you were finished having your fun? How anti-climactic. But vampires — we can take a lot more punishment. And, just to be sure, I have created this safe haven for you.

ANGEL: Safely away from earth. How convenient - for you.

MAL: You're in a nodal dimension. It connects to eleven other dimensions, including our home dimension. If you try to escape, and you leave these walls, you can be killed. And if you aren't, you could easily find you way into the wrong dimension, and never be able to return home ever again.

ANGEL: You've gone to a lot of trouble to keep me away from my son.

MAL: You want to go home and see him? [Mal picks up his bow] Pull this string back to your ear.

He holds his right arm straight out and with his left hand does as instructed. Then he hands the bow to Angel. He notices that the six foot-high bow is made of thick, heavy wood. It appears to be reinforced on the inside with thin strips of steel. The string itself is one centimeter thick, and made of tightly wound sinews. It's more of a rope than a string. Angel holds his left arm out and tries to pull the string with his right index and middle fingers. Nothing. He wraps his whole right hand around the string and pulls harder. It goes back maybe an inch. He tries again, pulling it back three inches. Frustrated, he gives it his all on his fourth attempt. Pulling and straining for more than ten seconds, he manages to pull the string back a mere six inches. Angel looks at the device. It must have a draw of at least one thousand pounds. It was less a bow than a catapult. Mal smiles and rips it away from Angel, who regrets giving his enemy a psychological victory. Mal takes the bow in his left hand and pulls the string three-and-a-half feet back with his right hand, just to show he can do it with both arms. Then he hurls the bow up in the air and over the arena wall.

ANGEL: I can't die in here.

MAL: Correct.

ANGEL: Can you?

MAL: Yes. But then how will you find your way home? 

Mal looks up at the sky and begins humming what sounds like a trance chant while rhythmically clapping his hands behind his back. Angel, who's already split off the end of the four foot-long arrow to use as a stake, lunges at Mal and goes for a quick kill. He knows it won't work, but he wants to test this guy. Without looking, Mal grabs Angel's right arm and throws him on his back. He turns around and goes bumpy. As does Angel. Mal has glowing red eyes and three-inch long fangs. And as Spike would say, he is definitely the one with the biggest wrinklies.

ANGEL: Those must be a bitch to clean. You floss?

MAL: I know. I'm more than a little long in the tooth. From your appearance, I would guess you are about two centuries on. Show me some of that youthful passion.

Mal grins, bends his knees and prepares to fight. Both vampires wait for the other one to make the first move. Mal leaps at Angel. Angel grabs him and tries to toss Mal over his shoulder, but Mal hangs on too tight for Angel to do this. When Mal's feet return to the ground, he does a suplex, lifting Angel over his head and slamming his back into the sand. The two of them get up. Mal sticks his chin out. Angel throws a quick left hook. Mal pulls his head back out of the way. Mal throws a right hook, which Angel ducks under. He responds with a right cross, which Mal pulls his head back away from. Mal starts dancing around, circling to Angel's left. Mal throws a right hook kick, trying to sweep Angel's legs out. Angel hops up out of the way. Mal sends a left kick for Angel's stomach. Angel grabs it. Mal does a right backflip kick, hitting Angel in the chin and freeing himself from Angel's grasp.

MAL: I can wait all day. Can your friends?

Angel carefully but aggressively charges in, blocking Mal's left jab, landing two of his own, then clocking Mal with a right hook. Mal smiles and throws a right hook, hitting Angel and knocking him to his knees. Mal steps back and waits for Angel to get up.

MAL: Are you usually felled by a single blow?

Angel stands up. Mal darts in and out, getting within two feet of Angel before hopping six feet back. Angel knew Mal was flaunting his superior quickness and strength. Trying in vain to attack him would only play into Mal's game plan. Angel was going to be patient and make Mal hit him. Mal hops forward, then leaps upward, doing a flip and landing two feet behind Angel. Angel and Mal turn to face each other at point blank range. Mal tries a right backhand punch as he spins. Angel ducks under it and sends the broken arrow shaft in his left hand for Mal's heart. Mal reaches his left hand across his body and grabs Angel's left wrist when the point is two inches from his skin. Angel expected this, and throws a right cross, which Mal is now unable to block. Mal quickly arches his spine and pulls his neck back. Angel's right arm is fully extended, and his knuckles are less than and inch from Mal's nose. With his left hand, Mal twists and badly sprains Angel's left wrist. At the same time, he bites through Angel's right forearm with his fangs and hits Angel's mouth with three quick right crosses. As he lets go of Angel's wrist and takes his fangs out of his arm, Mal knocks Angel on his back with a head butt to the nose. The combination of moves took less than two seconds to execute. Before Angel can get up, Mal hits his right cheek with a right spin kick. Mal then does a backflip and allows Angel to rise. Angel's left wrist aches and his right forearm leaks blood. But worst of all, he has a toothache. Mal's middle knuckle had made three direct hits on the lower half of Angel's right fang, causing the tooth's root to shoot outwards, irritating the inside of Angel's gums and triggering a prominent nerve ending. No one had ever done this to him before. Angel really, really, really hated this vampire. He stands up, looking more determined than ever.

MAL: There's that fire in the belly I was waiting for. Show me how a champion fights.

Angel carefully closes with Mal. He throws a left jab, which Mal pulls his head back from. Then he tries a right hook, which Mal evades in the same way. Mal hurls a left cross, which Angel avoids before landing a right hook to Mal's left eye. Angel follows this up with a left uppercut to his chin. He tries a straight right kick, but Mal moves his head a few inches leftward and turns his cheek, casually avoiding the blow.

MAL: Or, I could show you.

Mal bends his knees and puts his right foot and fist forward. Angel puts his left foot and fist forward, not sure why Mal is all of a sudden deciding to fight southpaw. Mal quickly kicks Angel's left knee with his right heel, bruising Angel's right kneecap before he even knew he was under attack. Without bringing his right foot down, Mal quickly nails Angel in the chin, then spins around on his left foot and knocks Angel down with a right roundhouse kick. Angel vaults to his feet. He blocks Mal's left hook kick. Mal spins around, as if to throw a left roundhouse kick, then pulls his foot back at the last instant. He pops Angel in the mouth with two quick right jabs. Angel lands a right hook to Mal's chin. Mal counters with a right jab-right hook combination, the jab hitting Angel's left cheek and the hook hitting his left ear. Mal takes Angel's right cross to his nose, then clobbers Angel with a left hook. It was even more powerful than his right hook. This guy really was a southpaw. Those couple minutes he fought right-handed were Mal's idea of going easy on his opponent. Angel's knees buckle, especially his injured left knee, but he refuses to go down. Angel throws a left jab, which Mal blocks. But he lands a right uppercut to Mal's stomach. Mal grabs Angel with both hands and hurls him backwards. Angel slams into the wall a full twenty feet off the ground. Mal flies towards Angel, laying his shoulder into Angel when he's ten feet off the ground, squeezing Angel's ribs between himself and the wall. Mal pushes off Angel and falls to the ground. He reaches his arms up and catches Angel in midair. Mal throws Angel thirty feet towards the center of the ring. A weary and woozy Angel rises to his feet yet again. Mal stands directly in front of him. A frustrated and furious Angel throws a right hook. The blow hits nothing but air. Mal disappeared. Actually, he snuck behind Angel in less time than it took Angel to throw the punch. Mal grabs Angel's chin and twists his head 180 degrees, both snapping Angel's neck and allowing him to see Mal right behind him.

MAL: Over here, slow man.

Mal hits Angel's face with a left hook, causing it to twist around and face forward just in time for Angel to fall on it. Mal puts his right foot on the back of Angel's head, driving his face several inches down into the sand.

MAL: I would kill you yet again, but I am anxious to meet that son of yours.

Mal walks towards the wall. Angel pulls his head out of the sand, snaps his spine back into place, stands up, and runs after Mal while he effortlessly hops up the steps and out of the arena. But before Angel can reach the wall, he hears growling behind him. Angel turns around and sees three giant dog-like demons walking towards him, drooling falling from their jaws, which are big enough to snatch up the top half of Angel's body in a single bite. He knew Mal would make it difficult for him to leave. He had yet to discover how difficult.

By nine in the morning, the people living at the Hyperion realized something was wrong.

CORDY: He's not in his room.

FRED: And no one's seen him?

CONNOR: No. I swear. I really mean it this time.

LORNE: Let me get this straight. Angel left here last night. Without telling a soul. And now the sun's out, but so still is Angel.

CONNOR: He could be in the sewers, tracking something.

CORDY: Why wouldn't he take you along?

FRED: Tracking. Connor, you can track him.

CONNOR: Let's go.

FRED: Call Charles and Wesley.

Cordy and Fred follow Connor outside. Lorne phones the others. A few blocks down the street, Connor stops.

CORDY: What is it?

CONNOR: Someone joined him here.

The two women follow Connor two miles south. Then he stops again.

CONNOR: End of the line.

FRED: You lost his scent?

CONNOR: It ends. Both end. Right here, in the middle of the street.

CORDY: No manhole covers. No ash. He's not dead. But where could he go?

CONNOR: How could he just disappear?

FRED: He didn't. Someone took Angel to another dimension.

CORDY: If there was a portal here, then we can reopen it.

FRED: If we knew which dimension it opened.

CONNOR: Let me guess: go home, open books, do research?

CORDY: You're learning the drill.

Connor begins to walk home. Fred and Cordy stand on the sidewalk. He turns around.

CONNOR: Aren't you coming?

CORDY: My feet hurt.

FRED: We'll take a cab back.

CONNOR: Okay. [walks away]

FRED: Are we sure he had nothing to do with this?

CORDY: How can you even think that!?

FRED: Don't tell me it didn't cross your mind.

CORDY: I won't deny it. But this time there's no motive.

FRED: Do you think he'd kill Angel for that Dawny girl?

CORDY: Oh yeah. If Angel and Buffy tried to keep them apart, he'd take out both of them.

FRED: Don't you find that scary?

CORDY: A little. But that's not what's happening. Killing or kidnapping Angel does not bring Connor any closer to Dawn. Wouldn't it be easier for him to run away to Sunnydale again?

FRED: You're right. Connor doesn't have a reason to harm Angel.

CORDY: And he's nice now.

FRED: I suppose.

CORDY: Then why did you immediately think it was him?

FRED: Old habits die hard.

Early Sunday evening at the Summers house.

WILLOW: He's back.

BUFFY: Where?

WILLOW: In Sunnydale. All over Sunnydale. Either he's driving around, or just running really fast.

BUFFY: He doesn't want us to find him. He wants to find us. We'll give him the chance.

GILES: If you and Faith go alone, the Reapers will overpower you. If we all go, our enemy will get a chance to kill the Potentials. Which lesser of these two evils have you chosen?

BUFFY: Just the three of us. If he has to use the Reapers, it will be a sign of weakness. He knows this.

GILES: Whether he beats you up, or he lets his Reapers do the job for him, it's the same result for you. There's no point fighting a battle you don't think you can win.

BUFFY: We need to learn how to win. We have to test him, probe for weaknesses. If we get in over our heads, well, we're all fast enough to make a clean getaway.

GILES: You can't just go pell-mell into battle. You need a plan.

BUFFY: I have one.

GILES: Let's hear it.

Meanwhile, back at the Hyperion after sunset. Everyone's downstairs, waiting for Lorne to return. When he walks in, he looks upset.

FRED: Bad news?

LORNE: I would have been back sooner, but I felt like getting a second opinion.

WES: And what did your experts agree on?

LORNE: They're not sure where he is. Let's just say it's not on the map. But they are sure we can't get there.

CONNOR: Can he come back?

LORNE: If by he you mean Angel, the answer's no. Not alone. The portal's sealed on both sides. It's a proprietary dimension. The only thing that can open it is whatever took Angel away.

GUNN: The whole dimension's the demon's private property? Like his crib?

LORNE: More or less.

CONNOR: What do we do?

CORDY: If Angel's still alive, he's being held for some sort of ransom. That means this thing will be back here to make contact with us.

FRED: How can you be so sure?

CORDY: I was an evil mastermind not too long ago.

GUNN: What happens if we kill this thing?

WES: Presumably, either the portal shuts forever, or it opens to all.

LORNE: Number two. It's like how a vampire can enter a house when the owner's deceased.

WES: How can you be so sure that analogy's appropriate?

LORNE: I asked my experts. They both said once the owner croaks, his domain goes public and the portal opens.

CONNOR: Then we go to the portal and wait.

CORDY: For how long?

CONNOR: Better than sitting here.

WES: If we stand outside all night, by the time it arrives we'll be exhausted and in no shape to fight.

CONNOR: Fine. Everyone goes with me. If there's nothing, you can go home. I'll stay and call if something happens.

CORDY: You should come home with us, Connor. You don't want to have to fight it alone. We have no idea how powerful this thing is.

CONNOR: Or isn't.

CORDY: Then we play it safe.

CONNOR: Fine. Everyone plays it safe. But I stay there. It's sneaky. If it were really strong, like Beast, it would stand and fight.

WES: At this point, we shouldn't assume anything.

GUNN: Let's quit arguing and load up our weapons.

Gunn drives everyone to the portal location in his truck. Connor jumps out of the flatbed. He turns left and walks for twenty feet before turning around and running back to the truck.

CONNOR: They're back. Both of them.

NEXT: Connor and the gang square off against Mal. Buffy tries to do better in her second encounter with Seth. Mal starts to drink Los Angeles dry as Wesley begins to figure out who Mal really is. But this information only makes everyone more terrified.


	17. Thrashings All Around

Connor runs east down a deserted side street. Everyone else follows in the truck. A quarter-mile down the road, they see something. Gunn flips on his high beams, illuminating a black man wearing black tennis shoes, black pants, a dark-green tank top and Angel's unbuttoned shirt. Mal smiles. Connor stops as the others grab their weapons and get out of the truck.

MAL: I thought you would have a good nose. You have to understand, I had no idea what to expect. Three dozen centuries, and still I've never seen anything like you. [points at Gunn] Eurybades! It's been so long! Fine. Pretend you don't remember me. [walks up to Connor, takes a good look, grins] I never forget a face. Was your mother an Aurelian? [laughs as he backs away from Connor. He looks at the boy again, then laughs some more, before bursting into song in a sweet tenor voice.] "It's a been a long time, but I know a change is gonna come." For you, empath. Humans working for vampires. Pyleans working for humans. Am I in a Mirror Dimension?

CORDY: Where's Angel?

MAL: Angel is safe, if not quite sound. He will return to you when I want him to. If you object, well, object. Fight. Try anything and everything within your power. Because it won't make a difference.

CONNOR: Tell us where Angel is.

MAL: And if I refuse?

CONNOR: We'll kill you. [Cordy and Fred point their crossbows at Mal, who's thirty feet in front of the group. Lorne and Wes point tranq guns. Wesley also points a real gun. Charles brandishes his two-handed battle ax. Connor holds a broadsword.]

MAL: I was hoping it would come to this.

Mal goes bumpy. Cordelia fires her crossbow. Mal leaps fifteen feet in the air. Fred points upward and fires. Mal does a flip and catches the bolt in his left hand. Wesley backs up onto the sidewalk to Mal's left, waiting to get a clear shot when he lands. Lorne backs up to Mal's right. Connor gets ready to slice upward and cut Mal on his way down. Gunn stands to Connor's right, his ax held back, waiting for his chance to swing. Cordy and Fred retreat behind the truck to reload. As Mal's feet approach the ground, Connor goes for his knees, swinging his sword from left to right. Mal pulls both legs up and does a midair split. The blade flies right under him. Mal lowers his legs and lands on the ground. Connor swings the sword from right to left, going for Mal's neck. The vampire doesn't duck. Instead, when the blade is three inches to the left of his neck, Mal reaches out his right hand and grabs Connor's left wrist, stopping the sword's momentum. He squeezes down on Connor's wrist, crushing a bone or two, forcing him to take his left hand off the weapon. At the same time, Mal stabs Connor's right shoulder with Fred's crossbow bolt. Connor pulls his right arm back, dropping the sword. Mal looks into Connor's eyes, sees the pain, smiles, and knocks Connor down with a left hook.

On Mal's left, Gunn comes at him with the ax. When he hits Connor, the ax is in mid-swing. Mal ducks, avoids the blow, spins clockwise and grabs the ax handle with his right hand before Connor's back hits the ground. Mal quickly rips the weapon out of Charles's hands and strikes him on top of his head with the back of the ax. Behind Gunn is Wesley. Once Charles began to fall, and thus moved out of Wesley's line-of-fire, he fired the tranq gun. Mal reaches his left hand up, grabs the dart between his thumb and index finger, then tosses it behind him, hitting Lorne in the neck on the other side of the street. Lorne collapses before firing a shot. Mal looks at Wes while he bends the ax's metal handle into a U. Wes pulls out his pistol and fires two shots as Mal advances on him. Mal blocks both of them with the flat side of the ax head. Wesley backs up against the wall, looking over Mal's shoulder, hoping to delay the vampire long enough for Connor to come at him from behind. Mal swings his right arm, sending the flat side of the ax towards Wesley's forehead. A glancing yet crushing blow knocks Wes unconscious. Mal drops the deformed weapon, turns around and walks back towards Connor, who's still down for the count. Gunn is conscious, but stays down and pretends to be knocked out. When Mal has stepped past him and is leaning down to pick up Connor, Charles rises to his feet and tries to stake Mal in the back with a pop-out stake he has attached to his right wrist. Mal reaches behind his back with his left hand, crushes the stake, spins and hits Charles in the face with the back of his right hand.

MAL: I knew you were the brains of this operation. [Mal lets Gunn land a right hook to his jaw] So who's the white boy with the pistols? [knocks Gunn out with a left hook] I suppose he's the soft target decoy.

Connor rises to his feet, wields a mace and drives it into the top of Mal's skull. This succeeds in getting his attention, though not quite in injuring him. Mal spins around, hits Connor with a right hook kick, whirls around a second time and knocks Connor on his back with a left roundhouse kick. He continues walking forward, then turns to his left. Cordelia has come out from behind the back of the truck and points her reloaded crossbow at Mal's heart. She is twenty feet in front of him. Fifteen feet to his right is Fred, a crossbow in her left hand, pointed at Mal, and her right hand behind her back. Mal faces Cordy. He can see Fred out of the corner of his right eye.

MAL: I do hope you ladies last longer than the gents.

CORDY: Let's see how long you last.

Cordelia fires her crossbow. It's heading straight for Mal's heart. But the metal point bounces off his sternum, and the bolt falls harmlessly to the ground. Cordy looks more than a little astonished. Fred drops her crossbow and swings the flail in her right hand. Mal doesn't bother turning to face her. He reaches his right arm out, grabbing the chain while he tilts his head left to avoid the ball. He tugs on the chain, lifting Fred's feet off the ground and pulling her towards him. Mal grabs Fred with both hands and throws her behind him and to his right. Fred crashes through a store's plate glass window. Mal hears Connor approach. He spins around, knocks Connor back down with a right hook kick, completes his 360 and lands facing Cordelia. She took advantage of the distraction Connor provided, charged Mal and hits his nose with the metal front of her crossbow. Mal's head snaps back, but he smiles.

MAL: I like you!

Mal grabs the crossbow and bends both metal ends inward until they touch the weapon's wooden spine, rendering it useless. Cordy retreats. Mal pursues. She throws a right sweep kick. He pulls his head back out of the way. She grabs a stake in her right hand. When Mal looks over his shoulder to make sure Connor's not up, she stabs for his heart. Mal grabs the stake with his left hand and looks at her.

MAL: Why so hostile? I only said I liked you.

He rips the stake out of her hand, grabs both her wrists before she can try to punch him and hurls her high up into the air.

MAL: It didn't say I wanted you. Please.

As Mal goes back to his human face, he turns around to see Connor up on his feet. Cordy spins and flips through the air before crashing onto the flatbed of Gunn's truck. Mal and Connor her the thud she makes. Mal turns to his right to get a look.

MAL: Did she land on her back? Yes she did. Perfect!

While Mal's distracted, Connor throws a right hook. Mal grabs Connor's right forearm with his left hand and turns his head back to face Connor.

MAL: Far too predicable.

Connor kicks him in the stomach with his right foot. Mal lands a quick right jab. Connor backs up and tries a left roundhouse kick, which Mal blocks. But Connor connects with a right uppercut to Mal's stomach and a left cross to his chin, wincing as the blow lands because of his hurt left wrist. The vampire responds with a right to Connor's sternum and a left to his ribcage. Connor throws a right hook kick. Mal grabs Connor's right ankle with both hands and twirls Connor in midair. He spins several times before falling to the ground. While down, Connor tries to sweep Mal's legs. He leaps up and over Connor, then turns around as Connor rises to his feet. Connor takes a few steps back, trying to make Mal charge in and open himself up to a counter attack. Mal leaps at Connor, does a forward flip and kicks Connor in his face on the way down. He follows this up with a left hook kick to Connor's ribs and a right cross to his face. Connor lands a right hook. Mal connects with one of his own, giving far better than he got. Connor tries a left uppercut, which Mal pulls his chin back away from before answering with a quick right jab to Connor's nose. Connor throws a right cross. Mal grabs Connor's right fist with his left hand and lands two more quick jabs to Connor's nose before capping off his combination with a right uppercut. Connor staggers backwards. Mal pounds his head with a left roundhouse kick, then adds two fast right hook kicks to the left side of Connor's ribcage, balancing off the damage he had already done to the right side. Connor desperately throws a right hook and a left roundhouse kick. Mal chuckles as he easily blocks both of these. Mal lands three straight right-left combinations, working Connor's face like a punching bag. He adds two right hook kicks to Connor's left ear without returning his right foot to the ground in between kicks. Mal takes a glance at Connor, almost wishing this kid would go down already. He's starting to feel sorry for the boy. Mal decides to quickly finish him off with a left hook. Connor falls on his back, squinting up at Mal through his swollen eyes. Mal takes off Angel's shirt and drops it down on top of Connor.

MAL: You're stubborn. You and your father both. I like that. [Mal walks away] I I have a feeling I am going to like this Los Angeles. City of Angels? Ha-ha. Not anymore.

Spike's speeding around Sunnydale in his car, with Buffy riding shotgun and Faith in the back.

SPIKE: Red said he was round here?

BUFFY: Northeast part of town.

FAITH: So you have a convertible? Just like Angel?

SPIKE: [snorts] First off, he has a Plymouth, which as cars go is somewhere between Yugo and Trabant. Second, this had a hardtop, till those Reapers cratered it after smashing my windshield. Only way to make this thing driveable was to saw everything off.

BUFFY: I do miss the windshield. It's like riding on your bike without a helmet.

FAITH: You got a bike? What kind?

SPIKE: Hog. Woulda used it, 'cept I didn't have one of those nice little side cars for you, Faithy.

BUFFY: Spike! Watch out!!

Seth stands in front of them. Right before Spike hits him, he disappears. Spike pulls into the gravel parking lot of a boarded-up diner off the right side of the road. The three of them get out. Seth walks out from behind the diner, slowly picking the petals off a daisy. He wears his black leather vest with brown alligator-skin pants, a necklace with teeth hanging from it and a circular, flat-topped cap with an intricately woven green, yellow and blue pattern.

SETH: "Where have all the Slayers gone? Long, long time ago. Where have all the Slayers gone? Long long time ago. When will they ever learn?"

SPIKE: Didn't take you for a folkie.

SETH: And I didn't take you for a masochist. But why else would you be here?

SPIKE: Certainly not for fashion advice. Your Reapers may be mindless clones, but at least they have better headgear.

SETH: I prefer a little color. Bought this in Kazakhstan.

SPIKE: Oh really. That where you picked up those teeth?

SETH: No. Siberian tiger. Put up a better fight than any of you.

SPIKE: Did you also kill the croc who gave his life for those ridiculous pants?

SETH: No. I had better things to do with my time. And I don't mean rassling with you three.

BUFFY: I know. We're so much harder to kill than what you'd like to get your hands on.

SETH: That house can't protect them forever. Time is on my side.

BUFFY: Wrong. For you, it's all downhill from here on out.

Faith hurls a glass beaker containing half a liter of sulfuric acid at Seth's face. He puts his hands to his face. Buffy kicks him in the stomach with her right foot, lands a left hook to his right ear and an uppercut to his chin. He staggers back, takes his hands off his face, balls them up into fists and looks at Buffy. Faith runs up and nails his nose with a leaping right kick. He backtracks some more. Spike sweeps his legs out and Buffy kicks him twice in the head while he's down. Seth rolls to his left and stands up. Spike lands a right hook to his face. Seth sends a right uppercut into Spike's stomach, grabs the back of Spike's head with his left hand and pulls the head down into his right knee. As Spike falls down, Buffy lands a left hook kick to the right side of Seth's face. He glances at her.

SETH: Wait your turn.

Faith kicks him in the mouth with a straight right kick. Seth lands a right kick to her stomach and knocks Faith on her back with a right uppercut to the chin. Seth turns to his right to face Buffy. She tries to surprise him with a right hook kick, but he blocks it as he turns. He blocks a straight left kick, a right cross and a right roundhouse kick. Seth hits her face with the back of his right hand, then a right hook, then a left cross, knocking her down. Seth retreats, picks up some dirt, rubs it into his irritated face, takes off his hat and rests it on a post in a metal parking railing. He walks back to his opponents as they rise to their feet.

SETH: One at a time? All at once? Boys first? Or just the girls? Tell me your pleasure.

Spike steps towards Seth and hits his left eye with a right cross. Seth reaches out his left hand, grabs Spike's shirt and lifts his feet off the ground.

SETH: Was that supposed to hurt me?

Seth tosses Spike a few feet in the air and hits his face with a right jab when Spike's coming down and his feet are a foot off the ground. Spike tumbles to the gravel. Faith lands a left cross and a right kick to the nose, knocking Seth back several steps.

SETH: Now that's better.

He blocks Faith's left roundhouse kick, jumps in the air when she tries to sweep his legs with her right foot, then knocks her back with a flying right kick to the chin. He walks towards her, and towards Buffy, who is to Faith's left. He leaps at them, grabbing Faith with his left hand and Buffy with his right and taking them down to the ground. Spike comes at Seth from behind. He kicks his legs up, hits Spike in the face and does a forward hand spring to rise to his feet. Buffy and Faith stand up. Seth still has his back to them. He kicks Buffy in the chest with his right foot, then tries to kick Faith with his left. She grabs the foot. Seth spins around and knocks her down with a flying right hook kick. Buffy comes at him from the left. He tries to punch her, but she grabs his left wrist. Seth uses his strength to pull his wrist free, then turns left to face her. He quickly lands right and left jabs, followed immediately by a right cross. Buffy backpedals but stays on her feet. Spike runs at Seth from behind. He turns and tries to sweep Spike's legs out. Spike leaps in the air, avoiding the move, but Seth catches Spike and hurls him onto the road. He looks up, sees headlights approaching, and rolls off to the shoulder just in time. Meanwhile, Seth leaps at Buffy and lands a leaping right kick to her chest. The blow nearly knocks her into the side of the car that almost ran over Spike. Buffy sees Faith coming at Seth from behind. She assumes her fighting stance and waits as Seth approaches. When he is six feet in front of Buffy, Faith kicks him in the back. Seth turns, grabs Faith's right wrist with his left hand, grabs her throat with his right hand, and tosses her over his shoulder and into Buffy. Both Slayers land on the road. Seth notices that no cars are coming.

SETH: I knew I should have picked a busier part of town.

Seth backs up into the parking lot as Spike pursues him.

BUFFY: Spike! Wait.

He stops and allows Buffy and Faith to stand up and walk over to join him in the attack. Seth looks at Spike and grins.

SETH: That's a good boy. We all know you're not strong enough to get the job done by yourself.

SPIKE: And you are?

The three of them surround Seth. He blocks Faith's right hook kick, but gets hit by Buffy's left hook kick and Faith's right roundhouse kick. Spike adds a right cross, left uppercut and right hook. Faith lands a right kick to his chest, and Buffy knocks Seth down with a leaping right roundhouse kick. He falls down five feet in front of the abandoned diner. Faith, Buffy and Spike stand there, waiting for him to get up, too respectful of his power to make a rash attack. He recognizes this.

SETH: You're scared. [pushes his feet against the ground and stands up without using his hands] Because you know, the more you hurt me, the angrier I get, the more dangerous I become.

BUFFY: Not really. We were just waiting for another chance to knock you on your ass.

SETH: You always win, don't you?

Buffy hits Seth in the stomach with a right kick, then spins and tries a left roundhouse kick. He grabs her left leg and hurls her back and to his left. She crashes through plywood and lands in the restaurant.

SETH: That's your problem.

Seth notices Spike's urge to run to Buffy's side. He leaps at Spike and knocks him down with a flying right kick. Faith rips off a 2x4 that blocked the entrance, runs at Seth and swings away. He puts his left fist through the board, shattering all but the last foot, which Faith cleverly drives into his stomach. Seth knocks her back with a right hook and removes the board. She sees that the stabbing left no damage.

SETH: Can you do that? [Spike leaps at Seth's back. He reaches his left arm behind him, grabs Spike's throat and rolls his eyes] You again. [Seth hurls Spike through the wall and towards Buffy] I gave you what you wanted. Happy now? [Faith connects with a right cross. Seth returns his attention to her] No one ever bothers to come to your rescue. Why is that?

Faith hits Seth with the back of her right hand, then with a left jab. Seth kicks her in the stomach with his right foot and punches her in the face with a left cross. Then he grabs her with both hands and tosses Faith through the plywood on top of the window to the left of the entrance, on the opposite side from where he tossed in Buffy and Spike. Seth leaps high in the air and enters the restaurant through the roof. It's very dark. Faith, Buffy and Spike have trouble seeing each other. But they can all see Seth's bright green eyes. He walks around, searching for his adversaries as they stay low to the ground and try to look for the best weapons. Buffy decides to circle back to the kitchen. Spike hears her and attempts a diversion. He picks up a four foot-wide circular table and runs at Seth, pushing him back into the counter. Faith picks up a smaller table and rams its round metal bottom into Seth's face while his back is pinned to the counter by Spike. Seth grabs the large table which is against his chest and pushes it away, along with Spike. Faith nails Seth in the side of the head. He grabs the thick central table leg and pulls it away from Faith. She lands a right cross. He grabs her head and slams Faith's face into the counter. Spike manages to pry loose one of the booths and pushes it into Seth's legs, slamming them into the counter and causing his upper body to lean forward. Buffy was disappointed to find that all the pots and pans had been removed. The best she could do for a portable weapon was to rip the metal front door off the dishwasher. She emerges from the kitchen, reaches over the counter and slams the bottom of the door into the back of his head.

BUFFY: Order up.

Buffy brings the door down onto the top of Seth's head. Spike stands on top of the booth and wails away on Seth's face. He gets in four punches before Seth reaches out his right hand, grabs Spike's groin and squeezes. Spike gasps and groans in agony. Seth tosses Spike over his head and into the wall between the restaurant and the kitchen. Spike is slow to get up.

SPIKE: Bloody . . . low . . . blow.

Faith slams the back of Seth's head into the counter and Buffy brings the metal door down onto his face. Using his feet, Seth pushes the booth away from his lower body. Then he grabs the back of the counter with his hands, pulls his legs backwards and upwards and kicks the door as Buffy is bringing it down on his face yet again. The force of the blow knocks Buffy back into the wall. Seth does a back hand spring and lands behind the counter, looking across it at Faith. She throws a right jab. He leaps over the counter and lands behind her. When she turns and attacks, he smashes a wooden table over her head, knocking Faith down. Buffy jumps over the counter and pushes Spike's booth towards Seth's legs. He leaps over the booth and fells Buffy with a flying right kick. From behind the counter, Spike reaches out, grabs Seth's neck and drives the back of his head into the counter. While holding Seth there, Spike tries to choke him, thinking perhaps that could work against Seth's kind. Seth grabs Spike's wrist and slowly pulls Spike's hands off his neck. Buffy and Faith attack, but he knocks them down with left and right kicks. After pulling Spike's arms up, Seth turns, grabs Spike and throws him over his shoulder and through the boarded-up front door. Seth then picks up the table Faith used against him and hits Faith and Buffy in the head the metal bottom, knocking them down yet again. He gives Faith another shot while she's down, since it was her weapon. Buffy tries to get up, but Seth kicks her back down with his right foot. He tosses her through the side wall. Then he walks back to Faith, picks her up and tosses Faith through the other side wall. Seth then walks through the busted front door to face off against Spike, who's all alone in the parking lot.

SPIKE: There's just certain things a bloke doesn't do to another bloke, no matter how much he hates 'im.

Spike lands a right hook to Seth's face. Seth answers in kind. Spike manages to stay on his feet.

SETH: Who says I'm a bloke?

SPIKE: [laughs] You mean ya don't got any? Explains why you're working for the First.

Seth lands a left cross. Spike kicks him in the groin. Seth groans and doubles over. Spike lands left and right crosses to his face. Seth nails Spike in the stomach with a right uppercut, then in the ribcage with a left hook. He grabs Spike by the ears and head butts him to the ground.

SETH: I would have shown you, but I'm not in the habit of embarrassing "blokes" and making their girlfriends curious. [he sees Buffy staggering towards him about twenty feet behind Spike] Sorry miss. I know you're not his girlfriend. He just thinks you are. It's so, [smiles] "bloody," obvious. Especially now that all of you are so, [grins] bloody.

Spike stands up, but Seth just knocks him right back down with a left hook kick. He turns to see Faith ten feet behind him.

SETH: Don't worry, honey. I didn't forget about my favorite third wheel.

She swings her right hand towards Seth's head, trying to hit him with a brick she picked up along the side of the building. He ducks, but looks a little worried by her resourcefulness at this late stage in the fight. Mal punches her in the stomach with his right hand, clubs her in the back with his left, and knocks her down with right knee to the face. After she missed the punch, Faith tossed the brick forward and Buffy picked it up off the the ground. As Seth turned, she swung it towards him with her right hand. Seth sticks his left hand out and blocks the brick, then knocks Buffy down with a right hook. He leaps over top of Buffy towards Spike. He in turn leaps at Seth. When they meet in midair, Spike lands a right cross at the moment Seth connects with a left uppercut. Spike's the one who falls on his back. Seth dances around and laughs, waiting for all three of them to rise. They back up towards the car. Seth leaps at Faith, smashes her head into the passenger's side mirror, then rams her head into the door. Buffy grabs Seth from behind and tries to throw him. He spins out of the move, looks to his left, sees Spike, kicks Spike in the stomach with his right foot and knocks him down with a left jab and a right hook. Buffy kicks him in the face. Seth throws a straight right kick. Buffy moves to her left to evade this kick, but gets knocked into the car by Seth's left roundhouse kick. He hits her chin with a right uppercut, her right cheek with a left cross, then her chin again with another right uppercut. Buffy's back slides down the car door as she falls to the ground. With all three of his opponents down for the count, Seth backs up and slowly claps.

SETH: Good show. Hope you have enough left for the encore.

Seth picks up his hat, puts it on and disappears. Seven Reapers emerge from behind the restaurant and slowly approach.

BUFFY: Spike! Spike!! We have to go! [he stands up]

SPIKE: You go on ahead. I'll keep them busy.

BUFFY: No!!!

SPIKE: Don't worry about me, love. I'll be all right.

BUFFY: You have the keys!!!

SPIKE: Keys? My car! Well aren't I a bloody idiot.

Remembering that they don't have to escape on foot, Spike runs to his automobile. Buffy and Faith pull themselves up and crawl into the back seat. Spike climbs over the hood, jumps into the front seat and starts the engine. The Reapers run towards the car. Faith and Buffy grab swords which are on the floor of the back seat (they knew the weapons would be useless against Seth). They block two of the Reaper's sword slashes from the right side of the car. Another Reaper hacks at Spike from the right side, reaching over the passenger seat. Spike moves towards the door, and the blade narrowly misses him as it cuts through the upholstery. A Reaper on the left side of the car sticks his dagger through the door. The dagger slides between Spike's left elbow and his left thigh. Two more Reapers begin slashing for Buffy and Faith from the left side of the car when Spike gets the engine started and zooms away. They are all relieved to get out of there.

SPIKE: At least they didn't slash my tires.

FAITH: No. Spike. I think they did. [Spike listens. Both front tires are making noise and performing badly.]

SPIKE: Bloody hell. I knew I should've taken Rupert's car.

Spike races off on his rims, lest the Reapers catch up the them.

Wesley, Fred, Gunn and Lorne sit around the office, looking through books. Gunn has an ice pack on a large bump on top of his head. Wes tries to hold an ice bag to his purple forehead while leaning forward to read. Fred's hands are bandaged from when she landed in the broken glass.

GUNN: So we're lookin' for vamp. A powerful, dimension-hopping vamp.

FRED: I think I remember him singing before I got knocked out.

LORNE: Sam Cooke.

FRED: What did you pick up?

LORNE: He has a nice voice. Good taste in soul music. And he's completely confident that he can kill Angel and Connor.

GUNN: What about the rest of us? Did he think anything about the rest of us?

LORNE: No. Except that he's going to enslave my brothers and make my sisters work in Lebovian brothels. He knew I was listening in. That was probably his idea of telepathic trash-talking.

GUNN: Why'd he call me Eurybades. Who the hell's Eurybades?

WES: Odysseus's black sidekick.

GUNN: He called me a sidekick!!

FRED: What are you talking about? Odysseus doesn't have a black sidekick!

WES: Yes he does.

FRED: How hard were you hit in the head?

GUNN: He takes one look, and he thinks I'm the sidekick. Way to keep a brother down.

WES: Actually, Eurybades is far more than a sidekick. He's an experienced soldier. King Agamemnon trusted his advice above that of all his fellow Greeks. His courage and honor were unimpeachable. In fact, he was the only man Odysseus trusted with his life. I think the vampire was paying you a compliment.

FRED: Where does it say that he's a black guy?

WES: It's heavily implied. I'll try to find the passages when I have a chance.

FRED: And what the heck is a black man doing with a bunch of Greeks at Troy?

WES: He was supposed to be a mercenary from Egypt. It wasn't that far-fetched. There are paintings of black soldiers in Crete from that period. Wait. What if he was giving us a clue? Three dozen centuries. 

GUNN: You're saying he's from Egypt? And he doesn't think I'm a sidekick?

WES: He wants us to know who he is. [gets up and goes to the shelf]

FRED: Then why didn't he just tell us?

LORNE: Because when you're a celebrity, you don't tell people who you are. They're supposed to recognize you.

FRED: He thinks he's a famous vampire?

LORNE: He sure acts like a superstar.

Wesley puts a book on the desk and opens it.

WES: Here we go. An Ethiopian archer, based in a garrison in Knossos, sired around 1500 B.C. After rising, he proceeded to eat his entire company, ingesting so much blood on his first night that his eyes turned red.

GUNN: Sounds like our guy so far.

WES: Except for one problem. This vampire doesn't exist.

FRED: Then why is he in that book?

WES: It's a myth contained in one of the Council's volumes. More of a folk tale, really. A bogey man, created over the centuries, across cultures. I read about him when I was a school boy. His name's Mal. [reads from book] "Variously referred to as Melkar, Malvol, Malik, Malbram, Malashk, Malavasi, Min-shih, Mulu, Man-tep and Malahan."

LORNE: That's a lotta names for a fake person.

WES: Because his legend spread wherever there was a fear of vampires. He's like Nosferatu.

FRED: Nosferatu's not real?

WES: Of course not.

GUNN: But whatever attacked us, that was real.

WES: Yes, and I think he wants us to believe he really is Mal. It's common for vampires to impersonate legends. Like how every New Orleans vampire in a frilly shirt claims to be Lestat.

FRED: So he's not real either?

GUNN: Big deal. Even as a legend he's a weak-assed vamp. We could dust him in a second.

LORNE: So, in your expert opinion, the incredibly strong vampire who kidnapped Angel and made us all kiss pavement is pretending to be an incredibly strong fake vampire. Heavens to Betsy, that's a relief.

FRED: Just out of curiosity, what was this "fake" vampire supposed to have done?

WES: Attack only the strong. That was the crux of the myth: Mal was a vampire who hated fear. It's actually supposed to make him lose his appetite. He attacked armies: Hittites, Assyrians, Persians, Macedonians, Romans – but always when they were at the height of their power. And he was reputed to have killed twenty Slayers. A conveniently round number, and far more than any actual vampire on record.

GUNN: But, of course, he never did those things, cause he ain't real.

WES: Right. If a Slayer survived a few years, started to think she was invincible and began to slack off on her training, her Watcher would tell her about Mal. He existed to convince the Slayer that no matter how strong she became, there was always a vampire out there who was even stronger. As the centuries progressed, successive Watchers embellished the tale and added their own local details.

LORNE: It doesn't quite scan. This guy's good. Really good. Good enough that he doesn't need to pretend to be a myth in order to scare people.

GUNN: He had really big teeth. Even for a vamp. That's gotta mean something.

WES: I'm not sure.

GUNN: And the red eyes. I've never seen a vampire with those.

WES: But he's clearly pretending to be this mythical character.

FRED: How can you be so sure he's a myth?

WES: Because of these stories. They have him fighting Achilles, Heracles, Semiramis. You don't have real monsters fighting creatures of myth.

LORNE: Dracula versus Billy the Kid.

GUNN: I thought it was Godzilla versus Billy the Kid?

LORNE: They might've done that too.

WES: What does that have to do with anything?

GUNN: Real people fighting fake people.

WES: Dracula's real. And Godzilla's not a person.

LORNE: The point's the same. And the people who made the movie didn't think Dracula was real. At least I don't think they did.

FRED: What if we are fighting this Mal guy? We sure don't wanna believe we are, but what if he is real, and he's the one who took Angel?

GUNN: Vamps a vamp. We know how to kill 'em.

WES: If Mal were real, he'd be the greatest vampire of all time. Or at the very least the greatest in recorded history. By a long shot. [a few seconds of silence] But he can't be. For one thing, there's no mention of Mal doing anything in the past ten centuries. Fourteen centuries, actually. He only exists in the ancient world. What has he been doing all that time? He's not the sort of monster to keep a low profile.

LORNE: Maybe he's been overseas. Dimensionally-speaking. He took Angel to another dimension. He knew what I was. Whatever we fought, that guy's been around.

WES: And Angel brought him back? I know Angel is special, but come on.

FRED: Angel AND Connor. You heard what he said.

LORNE: Vampire-with-a-soul plus vampire child equals boku novelty.

GUNN: Just perfect. We're fighting a supervamp. Without our supervamp.

WES: That's the other thing. Mal isn't the divide-and-conquer sort. He prefers to collect and conquer.

GUNN: He said he'd bring Angel back when he was good and ready.

LORNE: You mean when he was done playing with his toys. [the others look at him] The toys being us, of course. Angel sold separately.

FRED: He's torturing us. And Angel. 'Specially Angel. All alone. Doesn't know where he is. Doesn't know if we're even alive. Having Lord knows what done to him.

WES: Given that this vampire's methods are highly unorthodox, and the fact that he is exceptionally gifted, I'm willing to go out on a limb and entertain the possibility that he is Mal. However, I'll need to see more proof before I'm convinced. [Wes leaves the room. The others limp after him]

FRED: You're not goin' anywhere, are you?

LORNE: The rest of the world isn't so warm, cozy and sanctuaried.

WES: I'm going to make a call. I think it's clear that none of us are in a position to leave the building tonight.

GUNN: No complaints here.

FRED: Wait! What about Faith? And Buffy!?

WES: Good point. I suppose I should alert Rupert. Though he probably has enough to worry about with the First.

LORNE: Of course. They're fighting an omnipotent enemy. Why should they worry about a mere world champion Slayer-killer who happens to be in the neighborhood?


	18. Mal Against The World

WES: Hello Claude. It's Wesley.

CLAUDE: You don't sound well. Did something happen to Rupert?

WES: No. This is about Angel. Or, rather, a new enemy he's facing. I trust you're familiar with the legendary vampire Mal.

CLAUDE: Mal is in Los Angeles? For Angel? What a terrible honor.

WES: You believe he's real? No. Knowing you, that shouldn't surprise me.

CLAUDE: I've worked up quite a dossier on him. It helps to fill in the fourteen century gap.

WES: You mean he's been here?

CLAUDE: He regularly returns to this dimension. At least once every few decades. Usually to attack other vampires. But never Slayers. Which is why the Council never noted these appearances.

WES: What sort of vampires would he attack?

CLAUDE: The most powerful. It was a way to confirm his supremacy. I'll send you the information. What's your fax number?

WES: One question. When he fought these vampires, what were his usual tactics?

CLAUDE: There were no tactics. He'd challenge his opponent, then gather round as many vampires as he could to watch him beat the unlucky vampire to a bloody pulp.

WES: I thought Mal was renowned for his ingenuity.

CLAUDE: He is. But only against a numerically superior enemy. Armies and the like. He doesn't need to be clever to beat a single opponent.

Mal quickly realized that the freeway was the quickest way to get around Los Angeles. But he didn't bother to use a car. Why should he, when he could run as fast as the freeway traffic for a few miles at a time? This caused quite a few motorists' heads to turn. Mal realized it might be fun to leap into a car, kill the driver and take the wheel. But he preferred to kill in volume. Perhaps something in the car pool lane later on. For the time being, he departed from the Harbor Freeway and entered South Central Los Angeles. To his dismay, Mal had noticed that few people walked the streets in this city. Everywhere he went, there was nothing but the occasional woman in an alley or a couple of teenaged runaways. These slim pickings certainly didn't work up his appetite. He felt like a hawk in a land of vultures. But after being patient enough and walking down enough streets, Mal spotted something worthy of his effort. On Budlong Avenue, four young men sat in a parked car, their engine running. Mal quickly and quietly approaches. The engine roars, and the driver floors the gas petal. But the car does not move. It just tilts forward. Mal had grabbed the rear bumper and lifted the spinning tires two feet off the ground. The men inside yell to each other in panicked confusion. Mal lifts the car higher, until he has overturned the vehicle and the driver is looking at him. Mal steps to his left, reaches through the driver's side window, pulls out the driver and drains the screaming young man. The man sitting behind the driver sticks his gun out of his window to fire on Mal. The vampire rips the gun out of the man's hand, pulls him out and snaps his neck. By then, the two men on the other side of the car have climbed out of their windows and fled. Mal leaps over the car and catches up to them when they are fifteen feet from the car. He comes at them from behind and grabs and breaks their right arms before they knew he was on top of them. Their guns fall to the pavement. He steps in front of the two men so they can get a good look. Mal's appearance adds to their fear and confusion.

MAL: You carry weapons. Are you soldiers? [The two men wearing red bandanas give Mal an agonized "What the hell do you want from us?" look.] Then die like soldiers.

The men reach down for their guns. Mal does a backwards hand spring and kicks both men in the head, knocking them on their backs. He tosses their bodies over to where their friends' corpses are. He drains the body of the man who's neck he snapped, then feeds off his last two victims while they are still alive. After going back to his human face, Mal piles the bodies up on the sidewalk and picks up one of their guns. He looks over the Tec-9, figures out how to remove the magazine, checks how many rounds are inside, puts the magazine back into the gun, and tries to fire it. After a few failed attempts, he decides to flip the gun's one moveable lever. With the safety off, he squeezes a few rounds into the head of one of his kills. The commotion has caused three young men from down the street to come out and see what was happening. They notice the overturned car, the bodies, and the man firing the gun. They walk up to Mal and point three guns at his head. He looks at them, smiles innocently, and drops his gun.

MAL: Were these your friends? [The three men with blue bandanas look down at the four bodies. It doesn't take them long to realize that Mal's victims had come to their street to kill them.] No. Your uniform is different. Were they your foes? [The three men look at Mal as if he's from Mars.] I suppose that would make me your friend.

He holds out his right hand. One of the men slaps it. Mal pulls him close and bites his neck. He screams out as his friends get a look at Mal's red eyes. They point their guns at him, but their friend's body shields him. So instead, they run back towards their house, looking over their shoulders and pointing their guns behind them. They see Mal drop their friend's body and run after them. They shoot a few rounds, then stop and turn around. But Mal's not there. In the time it took them to turn, he snuck in front on them. Before they can figure this out, Mal grabs both of their necks and lifts them up into the air. They try to point their guns at him, but he crushes both their spines.

Xander sits on the couch, his bandaged left arm in a sling. Anya sits on his right, holding his right hand. Willow sits on his left. Dawn and Andrew sit in the chairs, and the Potentials stand around the outside, looking at Xander.

XANDER: The doctor said they would have the prosthetic by Tuesday. Usually these things take a week. But Faith told Lindsey, and he called his old doctor in LA, and that speeded things up. He also talked to me about the, adjustment.

DAWN: Maybe you can get a new hand like he did.

XANDER: That would require a live donor.

ANYA: Then you can take Andrew's hand. [looks at Andrew] Clearly Xander's more deserving.

ANDREW: [looking nervous] That's very funny, Anya.

ANYA: No it's not. Xander lost an appendage. That's horrible.

DAWN: Where are we going to find a doctor who's willing to perform the operation? It is sort of illegal.

ANYA: So is murder. Andrew already crossed that Rubicon.

ANDREW: Can we please stop talking so enthusiastically about mutilating me? For a second there, it sounded like you two were being serious.

XANDER: For the record, I'm against treating Andrew like a living, breathing Mr. Potato Head. Plus, it would be creepy having someone else's body part. I'd spend all my time worrying about where that hand's been.

WILLOW: [looking worried at how casually her friends are discussing this topic] It's nice to know we can all agree than there's no such thing as a good dismemberment.

ANYA: Who said we all agree?

Buffy, Faith and Spike stagger through the front door, looking bruised and dejected. Everyone crowds around them. Giles comes into the foyer from the dining room.

GILES: I take it you found Seth. Things didn't go well?

BUFFY: It was an improvement.

FAITH: We gave him some good shots. Knocked him down a couple times.

SPIKE: He left town. We didn't. Draw your own bloody conclusions.

Giles's phone rings. He answers it.

WES: It's Wesley. Are you alone?

GILES: Wesley?

WES: There's something we need to talk about. Away from Buffy and Faith.

GILES: Will you excuse me? I apologize. [Giles goes outside onto the back porch] This had better be important.

WES: Are you familiar with the vampire Mal? The killer of twenty Slayers?

GILES: The Ethiopian? Yes, I've heard the legend.

WES: I have good reason to believe that legend knocked me and all my friends unconscious earlier tonight.

GILES: You mean there's a vampire in Los Angeles who claims to be him?

WES: I was doubtful at first. But he appears to be the genuine article. And he's after Angel and Connor.

GILES: You're serious.

WES: Regrettably. His appearance, his strength, his reflexes. They're well beyond the capacity of any normal vampire.

GILES: And you suspect this extraordinary vampire might come after Buffy and Faith.

WES: I don't. Mal hasn't even attempted to kill a Slayer for nearly eighteen centuries. He appears to be drawn to the novelty of a vampire offspring and his ensouled champion father.

GILES: Yes, I suppose that would catch his attention. As would two Slayers. Both of whom have lived a long time, and one of whom has performed feats no other Slayer can lay claim to.

WES: Yes, Buffy and Faith are very special. But my hunch is that Mal's content with an even twenty. However, since I may be wrong, I feel obligated to warn you.

GILES: That's good of you. What should I be on the lookout for?

WES: Red eyes. Very long fangs. Looks like, I don't know, Wesley Snipes.

GILES: Wesley Snipes? Really?

WES: That's the best I can think of. But the other details should be a clear giveaway.

GILES: So if I'm out, and I see black vampire with red eyes and saber-teeth fangs, I should run like bloody hell, and tell everyone with me to do the same?

WES: That would be very smart. Once again, I don't think he's after them.

GILES: Don't worry. I won't act alarmist. After all, we already have plenty to worry about.

WES: I thought you might. Oh. The faxes have come in. Sorry. Claude seems to have done a fair amount of research into Mal.

GILES: That seems appropriate. The Council denied his existence. Which would only motivate Claude to prove them wrong.

WES: He sent me everything he had so that we can be better prepared.

GILES: Best of luck. To you and Angel.

WES: Thank you. Hopefully we won't need it. [hangs up] But right now, I'd have to say otherwise. [sighs]

Giles walks into the kitchen.

BUFFY: What did Wesley want? [Giles looks a little nervous] Is something wrong with Angel?

GILES: No. It was nothing. He merely wanted to check up on how we are.

BUFFY: What does he think about our big bad? [Giles takes a few seconds]

GILES: Oh yes. Him. He has no idea. We really didn't talk about much. Just Claude. He wanted to know if Claude returned safely to Paris. Watcher stuff. [walks away from Buffy. This was not what he needed. If Mal was as good as his press said he was, defeating the First could turn out to be rather pointless.]

Mal walks into a police station and approaches an officer sitting at her desk.

MAL: I would like to report a murder. Where is the person in charge?

HELEN: Did you call 911?

MAL: I need to speak to the person in charge. It is very urgent.

HELEN: Why don't you tell me, and then I'll be sure to pass it on to Captain Gorman.

MAL: Take me to Captain Gorman.

HELEN: I promise I'll relay your information immediately, Mister, what is your name? [Mal walks by her. Helen follows and tries to stop him.] Excuse me sir. You can't go back there.

Mal's looking for an older man with more insignia on his uniform than the other officers. He stops the first man he finds who looks the part.

MAL: Captain Gorman?

HELEN: I'm sorry, Captain. I tried to stop him.

MAL: I need to report a murder. Yours.

GORMAN: Excuse me? Sir, if this is your idea of a prank, you're in serious trouble. And if this is some sort of threat –

MAL: Not a threat. A prophecy.

Gorman looks confused. Mal goes bumpy. Gorman and Helen look terrified. Mal grabs Gorman, spins him around and bites his neck from behind. The captain's body shields Mal from the approaching officers who draw their guns on him. It also allows them to watch Gorman's face as the life is drained from him. Mal sees to men in front of him and Helen to his right. She's trembling. He assumes she won't fire. When Mal finishes draining the captain, he tosses his body at the cop in front of him and on his right, knocking this man down. He leaps at the other officer, who fires once and misses. That's the only round he gets off. Mal grabs the man's right arm with his left hand, slams the gun into the wall, knocking it out of the cop's hand. At the same time, he crushes the man's radius and ulna. Mal punches the guy in the sternum with his right fist, stopping his heart and ending his agony. It's Mal's idea of being merciful. He glances to his right, catching Helen's eyes. She wisely runs away. Mal wasn't going to kill her anyway. The other officer gets his captain's corpse off of him and tries to stand. Mal kicks him in the mouth with his right foot, knocking out several teeth. He picks the man up and drinks him to death before draining the other officer he's already killed. Two more officers, the remainder of the force in the precinct house at that time, approach Mal from behind, guns drawn. One of them tells Mal to put his hands up. He does this, then leaps in the air, attaching himself to the panelling on the ceiling. The cops fire and miss. When they see Mal defying gravity, among other things, they pause for a second. Mal crawls away. Then fire a few more rounds, none of which connect. Mal falls down behind a desk so they can't see him. The two men split up to surround him. Mal throws the desk at the cop to his left, and a file cabinet at the one to his right. The file cabinet knocks the man down and crushes his head. The other officer pushes the desk away and manages to stand up. He can't see Mal, who comes out of nowhere, picks him up, and drains the man by biting into the renal artery above his kidney. He then drains last officer by biting his forearms. Helen has returned. She's pointing her gun at Mal while he's leaning down to drain his last victim. She puts a bullet in his back. He stands and swats her gun away, but doesn't grab her.

MAL: Someone needs to tell the tale.

He knocks her out with the back of his right hand, then goes for the holding cell. Though they could not see the carnage, the four inmates heard the chaos, and grew excited. Mal approaches them with his human face on. They look around, each assuming Mal's a sociopathic friend one of the other three who's come to spring his buddy. Certainly he'll get caught before the night is out – you don't burst into a police station, kill a few cops and get away with it. But they could still benefit from his homicidal impetuosity. Mal grabs the bars and rips open the door. The men try to leave, but Mal blocks their path, and actually forces them into the back of the cell. Then he closes the door, bares his fangs and goes to work. So much for this being their lucky night.

At the Hyperion, Wesley and Fred begin to look over the new material. The phone rings.

WES: Hello?

ANNETTE: Wesley? Hi! It's Annette? Did you get it?

WES: I'm very sorry. Who are you, again?

ANNETTE: Annette Marcel. Claude's daughter. I sent you the dossier on Mal. Helping you with research. Just like old times.

WES: Annette. Of course! I apologize for not recognizing you voice, Annie. I've been very busy, and it has been a long while.

ANNETTE: Seven years. Papa said you've changed. So have I. Now we both fight vampires. I've slayed thirty seven on my own.

WES: That's impressive. But aren't you a little young for that kind of combat?

ANNETTE: I know. Few Watchers slay when they are eighteen. But I started training at fourteen.

WES: You're eighteen? My Lord, it has been a long while.

ANNETTE: I've read the file on Mal. And I translated a few pages from the Persian myself. I can trying to send you copies of the originals, if you want to rate my work.

WES: That's not necessary. I'm sure your father gave it a thorough checking-over.

ANNETTE: I don't envy your Angel. He faces an opponent with no known weaknesses or vulnerabilities.

WES: Yes. We've started to notice that.

ANNETTE: Good luck. I would like you to live long enough for me to see the new you, Wesley.

WES: I'd like to live as well. [hangs up]

FRED: Who was that?

WES: Claude's daughter Annette. She had something of a crush on me. I was doing research for my dissertation at her father's library. She helped explain to me his rather byzantine method of cataloguing.

FRED: A schoolgirl crush on a college boy. Even though her dad really didn't seem to like you. Or even respect you.

WES: Annette was a bookworm. Awkward, clumsy. Big, thick glasses. She spent her afternoons in a library rather than on a playground. I think she was more attracted to the knowledge in my brain than to the head and face which surrounded it.

FRED: She only liked you for your mind. How shallow.

Mal combed the town for more cops and gang members and other armed people. He couldn't find any cops, but fell upon two pairs of rival gang members walking the streets. He killed them, took their money and jewelry, but tossed their drugs into the sewer. Mal had always avoided mind-altering chemicals. He didn't even drink alcohol. Mal had a fear of losing control. Searching for more enemies, Mal piled the bodies in the middle of an intersection. Then he went out to look for more. Mal soon realized he liked New York much better. Over there he barely had to walk three blocks before finding three dozen possible victims. The subways in that city were far more crowded. And the police were more numerous. Pretty soon, he'd have to resort to ripping people out of their cars. And that was no way to hunt.

Even worse, he passed by more than one vampire bar. They were packed. There were so few good targets, vamps had to pay for it. They were domesticating themselves. Instead of hunting in packs for live victims, they sat around a table and made jokes over a few pints. He felt like a wild lion visiting a zoo, ashamed for his tamed brethren. Even those who still hunted shared bodies back at their lairs. These were the symptoms of overpopulation. Or fear of a dangerous enemy. Either way, something had to change. Mal decided to take no chances. He'd kill their enemies. And thin their numbers. Mal found four vampires accosting a young couple who had walked out of a supermarket on Western Avenue. They took the humans to a nearby alley to feed in seclusion. Mal stands a block away, 100 yards from the group. He takes out an arrow and pulls back his bow. Mal carefully aims and fires. The arrow pierces two of the vampire's hearts. The other two vampires stop feeding when they notice their two friends have turned to dust. They look around, and see no one. Then they notice Mal, fifty yards away and closing. He has on his vampire face. They see the arrow on the ground, and wonder how it killed two vampires. The humans try to escape. The vampires make sure to pin them against the wall. Mal takes the string off the bow, so now he's carrying a seven foot staff and a six foot rope.

MAL: Let them go. Or I will kill the two of you. With my bow.

The vampires look at Mal and laugh. He has no arrows. And his bow's not even strung. They're not allowing some crank to bogart their kills, so they go back to feeding. Within less than two seconds, Mal rips them away from the humans. The people flee.

VAMPIRE: Aw man. Say it ain't so. Another vampire with a soul.

MAL: No. I'm a vampire with soul. Huge difference.

The vampires look confused, then attack. Mal drives his bow through one of their hearts. He wraps his string around the other one's neck and garrotes him. Mal restrings his bow, drops it and goes after the humans. They have nearly run to their car when Mal catches up to them. He considers them lucky. They're getting killed by a real vampire, not some lowly urchins. Afterwards, Mal carries their bodies back to that intersection. Hopefully, he has attracted some more attention by now.

Connor lies on his bed, his shirt off, staring at the ceiling. Cordelia enters. She sees his numerous bruises.

CORDY: How are you?

CONNOR: Been worse.

CORDY: We're going to find Angel. We're going to kill this guy. Don't lose hope.

CONNOR: I haven't. He surprised me. I didn't know how good he was. I'll be ready next time.

CORDY: You won't have to do this on your own.

CONNOR: Yes I will.

CORDY: We're a team, Connor. Even without Angel. The others are doing research. They've figured out who are mystery vampire is.

CONNOR: Who is he?

CORDY: Someone named Mal. A couple thousand years old. Offed twenty Slayers.

CONNOR: Big deal. Slayers aren't so tough.

CORDY: You smiled. It was a little smile. But that's the first one I've seen from you today.

CONNOR: I miss Dawn.

CORDY: I know. We could use a vision right about yesterday. But the Powers never seem to come through when you really need them.

CONNOR: I miss Dawn. Not the visions. Having her around makes the pain go away.

CORDY: I suppose that's one euphemism for it.

CONNOR: Not just that. [grins] Though that's great. But she also makes sense of things. You know, gives me hope. She makes me think I can do anything.

CORDY: Then prove her right. [leans down and kisses his forehead]

Mal tosses his latest two kills on the pile. A truck comes down graffiti-strewn Slausan Avenue. It stops in front of the bodies and thirty feet in front of Mal, who's all fangy and ready for a fight. Two men are in the cab. Another stands on the flatbed behind a six-shooter catapult like the one Gunn used to work. Two men stand on either side of him with ordinary crossbows. Three teenagers step out of the flatbed and stand to the right of the truck, holding various weapons.

MAL: Walk away, and you live. I'll only kill those of you who try to kill me.

They assume this vamp must be trippin'. The man behind the catapult fires. Mal grabs the four foot-long wooden stake out of the air with both hands and tosses it right back, entering below the shooter's chin and exiting through the top of his skull. The others should have taken this as a warning. The two men with crossbows fire, and Mal swats both arrows away with the backs of his hands as if they were flies. They leap off the back of the truck as the driver guns his vehicle, trying to run Mal over. He leaps forward, smashing his head through the front windshield, grabbing the driver, ripping him out of his seat, then bursting through the back window. As the two of them rolled down the flatbed, Mal bit into his chest, crunching his sternum and tapping into his aorta. When they hit the road, Mal had to stop feeding. He stood up and retreated, allowing the six remaining men to get a good look at what he had done. After a few seconds, Mal leaps back into the fray, bounding at a teenager from twenty feet away. The young man swings his ax. Mal crunches his head down into his chest. The ax misses the top of his hair by a centimeter. Before his feet hit the ground, Mal digs into his neck, taking out a good chunk of flesh. Another man comes at Mal from his left, swinging a sledgehammer. Mal turns, grabs the head of the hammer with his left hand, grabs the man's hair with his right, pulls him forward and bites the back of his neck, severing his spine. Behind him, a fighter stabs a baseball bat he has fashioned into a stake towards Mal's heart. He bends backwards, averting attack and going into a bridge. He pushes off his hands, shoots his legs up, grabs the fighter's head between his ankles, flips him forward and to the ground, then snaps the man's neck with his lower legs. While he's still down on his back, one of the three remaining vampire hunters drives a stake down towards his chest. Mal grabs the stake with his left hand and rips it away. Another fighter sends a machete for his neck. Mal sticks the flat end of the stake in the path of the machete. It cuts nine inches into the twelve inch-long stake, not then gets stuck. Mal smiles and sighs.

MAL: That's a good stake.

While the machete's blade is lodged in the stake, Mal twists the stake, pulling the machete out of the fighter's hand. The young man was in no mood to appreciate the irony of a vampire saving his life with a wooden stake. The third remaining fighter hits Mal in the face with a 2x4. He grabs the man's legs, who hits Mal two more times in the head while Mal pulls him down. Mal stands, still holding onto the man's legs, then hurls him into the truck's rear bumper. The other two men have retrieved and disentangled their weapons. Mal knocks the man with a machete down with a right hook kick and fells the man with the stake with a left hook. He sticks his fingers into each of their lower spines, paralyzing them. Mal walks over to the truck and drains the fighter with the 2x4 before returning to finish off these two men, who were conscious but couldn't feel or use their legs.

MAL: When you are given a chance to live, always take it. Right now, you have to ask yourself, was this vampire worth dying for?

Fred, Gunn and Wes sit around the lobby and read the information Claude sent them about Mal.

WES: [mutters to himself] I thought Hannibal destroyed that town.

FRED: Looks like this is his first time out west. Says he was last in America in 1962, for the New York World's Fair.

WES: But there were no reports of mass killings at that event.

GUNN: Maybe he wanted to lay low.

FRED: This guy doesn't lay low very well. Like this report. Says that In 1972 he popped up on the lower Danube and took out more than one hundred Romanian Secret Police. That's the other thing. Am I the only one who's noticed this guy's got a hankering for attacking the, you know, bad guys?

WES: He attacks the powerful. Very often, they also happen to be the bad guys.

GUNN: Like this one. In 1728, he massacres slave traders on the the Angolan coast. Then he frees the slaves and leads them against the tribes that sold them into slavery. Wait. Then the freed slaves sell these enemies into slavery. What the hell? Then he kills the slave traders who buy those slaves, frees them, and leads them against their enemies. [reads some more] He does this four times before leaving. And each time he steals the purchase price. So that's why he did it again and again.

FRED: A vicious, money-making circle.

WES: That, and the chaos it causes. By the time Mal was finished, he probably had every tribe in Angola at every other tribes' throat. What year was that again?

GUNN: 1728.

WES: Eighteenth century. So it had nothing to do with the bands of displaced Angolan warriors in the seventeenth century who worshipped evil.

FRED: Mal doesn't seem to worship evil. Even though, of course, he is evil. He seems to worship himself.

GUNN: He sure don't got any love for his own kind. In some of these stories, he kills as many vamps as people.

WES: What better way to establish dominance than by killing all possible rivals.

GUNN: Most of 'em ain't rivals. I think he just does it cause he likes to.

Mal enters an abandoned apartment building where six vampires are encamped.

MAL: Who's your leader?

DWAYNE: [stands up and steps in front of Mal] I am.

He looks to have six inches and eighty pounds on Mal. Mal hits him with a right jab, weaker than he's capable of. Dwayne nails Mal with a mighty right hook, expecting the blow to knock Mal down, or at least knock him a step or two back. It achieves neither. Mal lands a left hook, this punch at full power. Dwayne goes wobbly. Mal connects with three quick right jabs and a left uppercut. Then he grabs the woozy Dwayne and tosses him face-first into a wall fifteen feet to Mal's left. Mal raises his left foot and rams his heel into the back of Dwayne's neck, breaking it. He turns to dust as he falls to the ground. Mal looks at the other five vampires. After five seconds, one of them walks up to Mal.

LEROY: You are. [Mal smiles]

MAL: If you insist. Here is what I propose: I will help you gather victims. You will drink their blood. All of it. And in exchange for my generosity, you will deposit the dead where I tell you to. Is that too much to ask?

At first they think this powerful new vampire is a bit thick. Then they figure he's being sarcastic. He isn't. Mal thinks little of other vampires. Which is why he asks so little of them. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale, a leader who thinks the world of some of her followers asks for the opposite.

BUFFY: I know what we need. I know what was missing tonight. You.

WILLOW: [nervous] You think I can kill that guy? I don't even know if I can hurt him.

BUFFY: I'm not asking you to hurt him. All I'm asking is for you to give me a chance to hurt him.

WILLOW: Is that all? Okay. I know a few ways to do that, and at least one of them should work. Or, maybe I could try them all at once, since he is extra powerful. Like I said, is that all?

BUFFY: Well, [pause] if you could maybe think of something to protect the Potentials, a shield or a barrier, I don't know, just for a couple seconds, in case he knocks us down and goes for them. Just a few seconds. That's all I'd need.

WILLOW: If the Potentials stay together, I could buy a couple seconds. Defense is easier than offense. At least when it comes to magic.

The large canine demon bites into Angel's chest and thrashes his head against the sand. With his left hand, Angel grabs onto the demon's right ear and rips it clean off. The demon jumps back and whimpers. Angel gets to his knees and puts his hands on the ground. He growls at the demon. The demon growls back. They leap at each other head-first. Angel bites into its throat. After four or five bites, he pushes the demon onto its back. Angel makes a final, deeper bite, and the demon stops writhing. Angel has nearly bitten its head clean off. This was the third and final monster. They moved too quickly and where too strong for Angel to get a good enough grip to snap their necks. He bit through the first one's spine, and rolled the second one over and mauled its belly, disemboweling the beast. Before dying, the demons had made three very deep bites, one to Angel's left thigh, one to his right shoulder, and one to his chest and back, in addition to numerous deep scratches all over his body, including one that nearly took his right eye out. Exhausted and horribly wounded, Angel sits down, then falls on his back. He hears someone leap into the arena and looks to his left. It's Mal, and he's bearing gifts.


	19. With His Eyes Closed

Mal tells Angel a few stories from his past about Slayers and lovers, though they're different stories. Then Mal gives Angel the best chance he will ever have to kill him.

Angel struggles to stand, but can only sit up, using his arms to prop up his upper body, with great difficulty.

MAL: You didn't try to pry their mouths open and rip out their lower jaw. That's how I killed their parents, and the rest of their pack. Perhaps growing up orphans made them angry, more ferocious. [Crouches down in front of Angel, hands him an animal skin sack.] Drink. You need blood. Go ahead. It's not human. I give you my word. Don't give me that look. Have I lied to you yet? [Angel takes off the lid, smells what's inside to make sure it isn't human, then starts to drink. He is mightily thirsty.] It's dolphin blood. [Angel stops. He likes dolphins. Nobody likes to think of dolphins getting slaughtered.] Helps accelerate the healing. Getting it's the problem. Those suckers are fast swimmers, and they have very slippery skin. [Angel starts drinking again.] I met your son. And your friends. They are willing to die for you. Don't worry. I won't let it come to that. Your son is tough. He fights with spirit and desperation. Would he die for you? No. I'd rather you die for him. I know you would prefer it that way. Any parent would. The tall black fellow impressed me. I presume the shorter, unshaven white fellow is his assistant. As for the two ladies, I admire their courage. Standing their ground, even when they knew it could mean certain death. I especially liked the larger one with the shorter hair. She is cunning, and, I suspect, vicious when threatened by someone weaker than myself [smiles]. Some say you can judge a man by the quality of his women. I say that makes you a superb man. [By now, Angel has finished the sack, which had about a half-gallon of blood in it.]

ANGEL: If you think you can hurt me by threatening Fred and Cordy -

MAL: What threat? You presume I think like you? You presume wrong. Rape is the act of a coward and a loser. I never enter if I'm not invited. [laughs. hands Angel another sack] Drink up. You need more. There is something about you that puzzles me. You never amounted to much when you lacked a soul. I never even heard a single word about Angelus. You never had any kills of note. You hunted sheep and stayed away from lions. Why did it take a soul to make you brave?

ANGEL: If you have to ask, you couldn't understand.

MAL: Is it guilt? It must be more than that. A woman, perhaps? No. That would too ordinary. Never mind. I don't care why you're brave. So long as you are brave. Because, if you are not brave, I will feel cheated. And then I might kill your friends. As punishment. I know you are thirsty. Keep drinking. It tastes good, no? Lion's blood. I keep a few of them around here. Keep a lot of things around here, in case you haven't noticed. Got a Mohra demon in a dungeon somewhere. Now they are fun. Getting bigger and stronger each time you kill them.

ANGEL: Or you could do the smart thing and hit them in their third eye.

MAL: That's no fun. And they only have twelve lives. Sure, the last three are pretty tough. Thing gets to be twenty cubits high. But that's when it really gets fun.

ANGEL: You're so full of it.

MAL: I never lie. I never need to.

ANGEL: Then what happened when you got a few drops of their blood in your system?

MAL: For that to happen, the Mohra would have to cut my skin. That has yet to happen. And I've killed dozens, scores of them over the centuries. Occasionally, when I am bored, I summon one.

ANGEL: They wouldn't even attack the likes of you. You know that. You know they only go after champions working for The Powers That Be.

MAL: No one works FOR The Powers That Be. No one can. You cannot work for something that does not even know what it wants to do. The Powers are children playing at being divinities. If I cared to, I could crush each and every one of them. So could you. They would be no harder to destroy than a sand castle. [lets sand fall out of his right fist] And this champion business. Do you think you are a champion?

ANGEL: No. I know I am.

MAL: Don't demean yourself. Champions are [waves his right hand in the air] fleeting. Like torches left outside in a monsoon. Brave, doomed, inconsequential. I don't even bother to fight champions. There's no glory killing something destined for an early death. I only kill those who would live for a very long time were it not for me.

ANGEL: Is this your idea of flattery?

MAL: No. This is my idea of education. I don't like to kill the ignorant.

Gunn hears noises outside. He runs into the courtyard.

GUNN: Fred. Guys. You gotta get out here. [Wes sticks his head out the door]

WES: The courtyard isn't protected.

GUNN: That doesn't mean we should let these bodies rot.

WES: Bodies? Whose bodies?

Wes steps outside. Fred and Cordy run out when they hear talk of bodies. There are five corpses on the ground in the courtyard.

CORDY: Corpses. Almost like being back home. [Gunn and Wes lean down and examine the bodies]

GUNN: Definitely the work of a vampire.

FRED: Mal?

WES: Quite possibly. [gets his eyes within a few inches of a neck wound and takes a long look] But these appear to be normal vampire bite marks. Mal doesn't have normal vampire teeth. I would expect his marks to be different.

GUNN: It's a taunt. He's taunting us.

WES: Showing us what can happen if he roams the streets unopposed.

CORDY: Maybe. But if we oppose him, these are our bodies.

WES: I'm not saying we should let him draw us out into danger.

GUNN: We need Angel back. And where's Lorne?

FRED: Tryin' to find out what he can about Mal, and where he took Angel.

WES: He's using his strengths. That's what we all need to do, if we want to find Angel.

CORDY: Might I suggest waiting until the sun comes up?

WES: Of course. Back inside until then. There's no point in going home. It's too dangerous. [Cordy, Gunn and Wes head in]

FRED: Wait! Guys, what about the bodies?

WES: Maybe we should call the police.

CORDY: And tell them what? Five dead bodies happened to get "dropped off" at our place of business?

GUNN: We should burn 'em. In case they turned.

CORDY: We don't have an incinerator. And the boiler's not big enough to handle a human body. [they look at her] I'm just saying, it doesn't look big enough. Not that I know anything about corpse burning, or corpse disposal, at this place. Hey, aren't you guys forgetting that I didn't even live here when I was evil?

WES: We could simply cut off their heads.

GUNN: Speakin' of which, where did you bury Lilah's body? She was the last person to die here, least while we were around.

FRED: Ahm sure these people have families. Wouldn't exactly be fair to make someone's mother or father vanish without a trace.

CORDY: Then we take the bodies somewhere. Dump them, I mean drop them, I mean place them in an alley a couple blocks from here. It's late. No one will see us. Police will find them by morning.

GUNN: I'll use my truck. I have a tarp in back. Used to have to do this all the time. Back in my old neighborhood.

ANGEL: You actually expect me to think it's some honor that you've come after me and my son?

MAL: No. I would be happy if you would merely begin to take the situation seriously. I'm not asking for desperation. Not yet, anyway. Just concern. You know what I can do. You can imagine how I would match up against the people you love. Don't deny how awful it feels to know you can do nothing to help those who matter most to you. I know that feeling. We spent the day engaging in acts of sublime transcendence. I know that's redundant, but if you've had it, you know what I'm talking about. Candace was a part of me. She loved being a part of me. I showed her the world. She helped me rule it. And then early one evening, just after sundown, I headed out to feed, like always. While I was gone, they set fire to the villa, smoked her out, and shot her full of arrows like a common bandit. Can you imagine how I felt when returned to find her body among the ashes? It was my fault. I should have been there to protect her. But she hated to watch me feed. And she was strong. Strong enough to take care of herself.

ANGEL: Is there a point to your sob story?

MAL: I know. There is nothing sorrier than a vampire feeling sorry for himself. But I didn't feel sorry for myself. I felt sorry for Candace. Sweet, strong, soulful Candace. With that magnificent obsidian heart: dangerous, dark, resilient, yet fragile. As if it could break at any second if I wasn't there to hold it.

ANGEL: That's a disgusting image. [Mal kicks him in the mouth. Angel grabs it in pain] For a bad vampire poet, you're really touchy.

MAL: Do you know how it feels to be loved?

ANGEL: I hated this conversation a lot less when it was a monologue. [At first Angel assumed Mal knew nothing about his life. Now he's beginning to (wrongly) suspect otherwise.]

MAL: Finish your lion's blood. I need you healthy.

ANGEL: Maybe you should have thought of that before you sicked your overgrown dingoes on me.

MAL: I did. [Angel has finished both sacks, downing about a gallon of blood. Mal pulls out a glass vial containing a light blue liquid] Drink this. It's a healing potion. The sort of thing every vampire should have around when he has been mauled.

ANGEL: Does that "No Killing In The Arena" rule apply to poisons?

MAL: Yes. But this is no poison. [Mal holds out the vial. Right now, Angel can barely stand. So he takes it, pulls off the rubber stopper and downs the liquid. Immediately, he feels his organs twist and convulse. His stomach is wracked with incredible pain. He grabs it, rolls on the ground, and starts to spasm.] I know it may feel like poison. That much Killer of the Dead would cause intense pain and shaking. Something very much like what you are experiencing right now. And all I would have to do is carry you out of this dimension, take you home, and, hopefully, return you to your friends in time for them to watch you die. [After thirty seconds, the spasms stop and Angel can sit up again. He feels very warm, notices he's sweating, and experiences sharp pains in his arms and legs, as well as a wicked headache] Ha-ha-hah-ha-hah. I am kidding! The only time I bought vampire poison was for myself. The apothecary thought I was mad. Especially when I insisted on a giant dose. Enough to kill me within ten minutes. That would make the fight challenging, and make the taste of victory even sweeter. But, when I killed her, there was only disappointment. So much for needing to DRAIN the blood of a Slayer. I should have known it was not to be taken literally. One gulp, and I was better. Perhaps I should have told that to her Watcher, so the records could be corrected. There are so many errors in the standard texts. At least in the ones I have perused. After that first mouthful, her blood tasted sour. Just like all the others after number eight. The more you drink, the worst it tastes. That's a little known fact, known only to me, for obvious reasons.

ANGEL: You think I don't know you're putting me on?

MAL: Why? What do you know of poisons? What do you know of Slayers? What can you possible know? As evil, you were not man enough to face one. Or, to be fair, you were smart enough to know you could not kill one. A soul does not bestow intelligence, so you must have possessed that all along. As good, you are not strong enough to make one work for you, and too proud to work for one as her inferior. But enough of Slayers. They are Champions, and therefore operate on a lower plane than you or I.

ANGEL: [chuckles] Is this an act, or are you really this clueless?

MAL: Perhaps I am wrong. But your story does not matter to me, because soon your story will be over.

ANGEL: What a coincidence. Did you know that I feel the same way about you?

MAL: On your feet.

ANGEL: I don't take orders. Certainly not from other vampires.

MAL: Can you kill me on your back?

Angel looks and realizes that after one minute of searing pain the potion had done quite a good job of healing him. His wounds are almost completely closed. Angel stands up, concerned about what weapons Mal has in his bag.

Around sunrise, inside the Hyperion. Gunn and Cordy are sleeping on couches in the lobby. Fred and Wes do research in the office.

WES: It says here that Mal killed his final two Slayers while blindfolded. That has to be an exaggeration.

Mal begins to pull objects out of the bag. He tosses a sword and a stake to Angel.

ANGEL: This looks a lot like my favorite broad sword. This IS my favorite broad sword!

MAL: You live well. You like buildings of stone with large halls. So do I. Though I don't go to the trouble of making sure my enemies can traverse my home without fear of bodily injury. Your enemies must appreciate your hospitality. Take these as well. Even though I would hardly call them weapons.

He tosses Angel two of his pop-out stake wrist attachments. Aside from the horror of knowing that Mal has been in his home, Angel is suspicious of these gifts.

ANGEL: You want to move up to fighting me with weapons?

MAL: No. You fight me with weapons. I fight you without them.

ANGEL: That would make this another one of your head games.

MAL: And, I fight you, wearing this.

Takes out a strip of black cloth, pulls it over his eyes, and ties it at the back of his head.

ANGEL: I don't like magic tricks.

MAL: No magic. I am sure you know how to sense an opponent without seeing him.

ANGEL: You expect me to be blind-folded too?

MAL: No. I expect you to try as best you can to kill me.

Angel slowly puts on his retractable wrist stakes, keeping his eyes on Mal, who strolls around humming the riff from Curtis Mayfield's "Freddy's Dead," which of course Angel doesn't recognize. The title's purely coincidental, and not at all a reference to Winifred. Angel places the stake in his belt and grips the sword's handle with both hands. Mal stops wandering, and stands six feet in front of Angel, who bends his knees and takes his time getting started. Mal starts to look around.

MAL: Angel? Angel, where are you? You're not trying to run away, are you?

Angel swings the sword from right to left, going for Mal's neck. Mal stops pretending to be lost, and ducks in time. Angel was expecting this, and lands a right uppercut to Mal's chin, followed by a left punch to his stomach and a right kick to his face. Angel tries to sweep Mal's legs with his left foot, but Mal jumps in the air and kicks Angel in the face with his right foot. Angel's testing Mal, discovering which moves he can sense. Mal steps towards him and throws a right jab. Angel steps back and swings his sword, trying to cut off Mal's right arm at the elbow. Mal pulls his right arm back in mid-punch, then lands a left cross and a left hook, followed by a right roundhouse kick to Angel's chest, which knocks Angel's back into the wall.

MAL: Did you also put on a blind-fold? I know you believe in fair play, but that would be a bit much.

Angel levels his sword and drives the point into Mal's stomach. Mal puts his right hand on top of Angel's right arm, preventing him from lifting the blade up and cutting Mal's chest open.

MAL: I felt that.

Mal knocks Angel down with two left hooks. As he falls, Angel lets go of the sword. Mal slowly pulls it out of his body. Angel looks up and realizes he blundered. Mal licks his blood off the flat sides of the sword, then wipes the rest of the blood off the weapon with his fingers before licking them.

MAL: I like to keep my blood under my skin. [touches his right index finger to his stomach and runs it up his wound, which quickly closes.] I kept a pinch of the potion for myself. How greedy of me. [drops the sword to the ground and backs up twenty feet. Angel grabs it and stands up] So many vampires squander their blood, sap their strength trying to play Creator. Myself, I have never sired a single vampire. You may have noticed that it's paid off. Perhaps this is why you are braver with a soul. No siring makes you stronger. [Angel goes bumpy and swings his sword in the air as he approaches Mal] I heard that. You aren't going to try to bite me, are you?

When he gets within range, Angel rams the pommel of his sword into Mal's mouth. He was listening for the blade, and wasn't expecting this. Angel follows up with two left jabs to Mal's mouth. Mal backs up. Angel switches the sword from his right to his left hand and throws a right hook. Mal swings his head back out of the way, then lands a quick left hook, right jab and left cross. Angel steps back away from Mal's right uppercut. Mal smiles, his feet start dancing, and he sings the groove from James Brown's "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag."

MAL: "Do . . . Do-do-do do . . . . Do . . . Do-do-do do." It's all about rhythm. Who has it. Who doesn't.

Mal circles counter-clockwise. Realizing that Mal could hear it swinging through the air from a mile away, Angel drives the sword into the ground and prepares to go purely hand-to-hand. He hits Mal in the stomach with a left hook kick. Mal blocks his right roundhouse kick. Angel eludes Mal's right jab and pounds him with two quick, lunging left hooks. Mal throws a wild left hook, which Angel avoids. He steps back from Mal's straight right kick for his face. Mal sings louder and starts to snap his fingers in time with the song. He blocks Angel's left jab with his right palm, then blocks Angel's right hook kick with his left forearm. Angel closes in, knowing this will give Mal less time to react. Mal puts his arms up in front of his face, but keeps snapping and singing. Angel lands two lefts and two rights to his ribs and kidneys, then gets him in the chin with a right elbow and a left uppercut. After taking two rights to the body, Mal grabs Angel's fists and pushes him five feet back. He starts dancing again, still singing and snapping, first with his right hand, then his left, then his right again. Angel slowly and deliberately plods towards his quick opponent, seeing if he'll stand or keep running away. The arena is forty times the size of a boxing ring, which gives Mal plenty of room to move. He avoids Angel's right cross and left jab. Angel lands a right uppercut to his stomach, steps back and kicks him in the face with a straight right kick. And still, Mal keeps singing and snapping, like a demon drum machine.

Angel steps in and lands a left jab and right hook to Mal's face. Mal stops snapping and singing, but begins whistling the groove. Angel throws a straight right kick to Mal's mouth, which he blocks. He realizes he should have known Mal would be expecting that. Mal dances back and forth. He blocks Angel's left jab and right hook kick, then hops over Angel's attempt to sweep the back of Mal's legs with his left foot. Angel lands a right jab to Mal's chest, then a right uppercut to his chin. Mal avoids Angel's left and right crosses. He ducks under Angel's right hook kick, and takes Angel's left roundhouse kick in his chest. Angel tries a right hook from the side, going for Mal's left ear. He blocks it with his left hand, then raises his left index finger and wags it a few times. Angel steps forward and to his left, then attempts to kick Mal in the back with a right reverse kick. But Mal turns in time and blocks it, foiling Angel's attempts to outflank him.

MAL: "Ain't no drag." [Increasingly frustrated, Angel closes in and throws a flurry of punches, all of which Mal blocks.] "Papa's got a brand new bag."

By going on offense, Angel left himself open for a counter-attack. Mal fires lightning-fast left and right jabs, eleven of them, in time to the guitar part in the song. Mal pauses for half-a-second, knocks Angel on his back with a left roundhouse kick just when the horn blare would occur, then goes down and performs a split before immediately rising to his feet.

MAL: Oh, I am good! After something like that, I really do almost feel like jumping back and kissing myself. Ha-ha-hah. I got rhythm. Who could ask for anything more?

Angel stands up and lands a right hook to Mal's face. He starts shuffling away from Angel, who slowly pursues.

ANGEL: You're mixing your song references.

MAL: I was trying to relate to you. Even when I'm blind, I can still tell you're a white boy. A big, tough Irish boar who's got too much pride and heart to know when to quit. You may not look it, but you fight like it. To be honest, you look Basque. [Angel lands a left jab to Mal's nose]

ANGEL: What's that supposed to mean? [Mal lands a left hook kick to Angel's right cheek]

MAL: Absolutely nothing. [Angel kicks Mal in the stomach with his right foot and punches his right eye with a left jab. Mal lands a right jab. Angel answers with a right hook. He notices his knuckles are bleeding. Must be a side effect from the potion, Angel thinks to himself.] But you fight like one of those big, orange-haired Hibernian giants. The gentle ones, who protected the people. I miss giants. You know what they died out? Not enough breeding. They never traveled. Stayed in the same cave or giant tree their whole lives. That's no way to find a mate.

Angel closes in and connects with a left cross and a right hook, then a right hook kick and a left roundhouse kick. Angel throws a left jab, but Mal ducks. While he's down, Mal picks up some sand in his left hand and tosses it backwards and to his left. He hears a few grains collide with the sword's blade. Angel realizes what Mal is up to. But as he threw the sand, Mal stuck his right leg out and swept Angel's legs, sending him to the ground. Mal races over to the sword, grabs it by its handle and pulls it out of the ground. Angel approaches, but stops fifteen feet away from Mal.

MAL: I can't kill you. So what would happen if I cut off your head? Would you be able to pick it up and put it back on? But how could I kill you blind-folded? You are far too good to allow that to happen. [tosses the sword to Angel, who grabs it out of the air]

ANGEL: Thanks for the compliment. But I'd like the chance to prove you right. [Tosses the sword back]

MAL: It is your sword. [tosses it back again]

ANGEL: But you were the one who brought it here. [tosses it back yet again]

MAL: I stole it. I must first earn the right to use your weapon. [tosses it back]

Angel is tiring of Mal's exaggerated chivalry. He knows Mal's generosity is just his way of saying "I'm not afraid of you," because that's what Angel was also expressing by repeatedly tossing the sword back. Right now, Angel just wants to kill Mal. He has four weapons to do it with. It was time to use them. Angel leaps at Mal and kicks him in the chest with a flying right kick. Mal staggers back. Angel swings the sword. Mal ducks. Angel gets him in the nose with his right knee, then with a right uppercut. Mal puts his hands up to fight. Angel swings for Mal's fingers. He pulls his hands behind his back to avoid the blade, then immediately tries a right jab. This time, he isn't the faster one. Angel expected this, and beats Mal to the punch with two left jabs and a right hook. He quickly swings the sword with his left hand. Mal does a backwards hand spring. Angel sends a right kick for Mal's face. Mal leaps thirty feet up and twenty feet back, landing on top of the arena wall.

ANGEL: Am I really this good? Am I so good that you have to run away from me?

MAL: Wrong lesson. I knew exactly where the wall was. [leaps thirty feet to his left and lands on another spot on the top of the wall] I did not need my eyes to find it. [leaps forty feet to his left and lands again on top] I cannot see you, but I can find you. You can see me, but you cannot find me.

ANGEL: You redefine the word pompous. You really do.

Mal leaps thirty feet to his left but misses the wall, falling behind it. Angel laughs, then realizes what Mal is up to. He hears Mal running around the outside of the arena. He's moving clockwise, faster and faster. Angel listens. He's running a lap about every 6 seconds. Angel guesses the size of the arena, does a quick calculation, and realizes that Mal's chugging along at about fifty miles per hour. Then he stops. Or, rather, the noise of his running stops. He was going so fast, Angel can't pinpoint the spot where he stopped. Angel moves to the center of the arena, so he's seventy five feet from every spot on the wall, minimizing Mal's ability to surprise him. Angel stands still, and thinks he hears a faint rustling. Mal must be flush to the outside of the wall, moving around like a spider. Angel grips his sword with both hands and bends his knees. Suddenly the silence is broken by what sounds like a large firecracker exploding to Angel's left, at nine o'clock. He turns, realizes it's a diversion, then looks to his right, at three o'clock. When the explosion occurred, Mal climbed up the wall and leaped at Angel from behind, at six o'clock. He took off thirty feet above Angel and seventy five feet behind him, soared up to forty five feet about Angel, then swooped down, all while Angel looked to his left, then looked to his right. Mal sends his feet into Angel's back, landing on top of Angel while driving his face into the sand. Angel's back is very sore, but he held on to the sword with his right hand, and swings it behind him and upwards. The blade goes between Mal's legs and towards his groin. Mal leaps up and does a back flip. Angel stands. He bends his back and puts his left hand to his spine, since it doesn't feel quite right.

MAL: To win, you must have a sense of where you are.

ANGEL: I didn't know you were a Bill Bradley fan?

MAL: [looks confused. He's not familiar with the bestselling book.] Walt Frazier! Saw him at the Garden against Oscar Robertson. Is the Garden still there?

ANGEL: And on top of everything else, you're a Knicks fan. Figured a guy like you would go for the winners.

Angel charges Mal. He charges Angel. Angel ducks Mal's left jab, drives the sword's pommel into his right eye, then lands a left jab and a right hook.

MAL: You must be a Lakers' man.

ANGEL: Kings. [lands a right cross]

MAL: Kansas City?

ANGEL: What? [ducks under Mal's right hook kick and lands and left jab] How long have you been away? I meant the hockey team. Rangers aren't bad. But I was a Red Wings fan in the old days, pre-expansion.

MAL: I like hockey. [lands left hook, due to Angel's surprise] Outdoors. Cloudy afternoon. Big pond. No boards. The indoor variety is graceless, and violent.

ANGEL: You don't like violence!?

Angel throws a right roundhouse kick, which Mal blocks. But Angel connects with the back of his left hand and a right hook.

MAL: I like nothing poorly done. [misses with a right jab, but connects with a left roundhouse kick] You cannot have a good fight on skates.

ANGEL: Not if you only use your fists. [kicks Mal in the face with his right foot] But if you use the skates, it's a whole different matter.

MAL: True. But that would be a very short fight. Say, why hasn't THIS been a short fight? I AM blind!

ANGEL: Because you won't shut up.

Angel raises the sword and swings it downwards. Mal reaches both hands up and grabs Angel's hands, stopping the sword. Angel head-butts him in the nose, then kicks him in the chin with his right foot before landing a right hook. Angel lands a left cross and throws a right roundhouse kick, which Mal blocks. He hits Angel in the jaw with a right jab. Angel responds with a left jab, left hook, right cross, left kick to the stomach, and right roundhouse to Mal's nose. While Mal is staggered, Angel tries his luck with a quick sword slash for his neck. Mal kicks the sword out of Angel's hands and high up into the air with his right foot. Angel looks up. Mal turns around and knocks him on his back with a left reverse kick to the chest. Mal turns back around, listens for the falling sword, reaches his left hand out and grabs the sword's pommel when it is four feet off the ground. Angel stands up and sees Mal with his weapon. He stops ten feet in front of Mal.

MAL: I think I have now earned the right to use your weapon. [stabs the sword into the sand in the middle of the ring.] But I do not need it.

Mal leaps at Angel and knocks him down. Angel pushes Mal off of him and they both stand up. Angel avoids Mal's right roundhouse kick and moves away from his leaping left kick. When Mal charges again and throws a left cross, Angel blocks the punch, grabs Mal's left arm with his right arm and tosses Mal over his shoulder. Mal stands and turns around to face Angel. Angel moves behind Mal and kicks him in the back. Mal turns and throws a left hook. Angel reaches across his body to block it with his left hand. At the same time, his sends his right fist towards Mal's chest. When the stake pops out, its point is three inches from Mal's chest and heading straight for his heart. When the point is one inch from his skin, Mal grabs the stake with his right hand, rips it off of Angel's wrist, reaches across Angel's body and stabs it into Angel's side, just above his right hip. Mal makes sure to get the stake all the way under Angel's skin, so he'll have to reach inside to pull it out. Angel grimaces and lands a right cross, then steps forward and connects with a left jab. He can see that he's done a good bit of damage to Mal's face. Mal lands a right jab. Angel lands right and left crosses. Mal lands a left hook. Angel pounds his face with a left jab and a right uppercut. Mal connects with a right cross. Angel steps back, realizing that he won't be able to last long taking one punch for every two that he lands. Mal's punches are too powerful.

Mal throws a straight left kick. Angel blocks it. He also blocks Mal's right hook hook. Angel throws a right hook. When that's blocked. He sends his left fist for Mal's heart. Mal blocks the fist with his right palm. Angel struggles to push it closer to Mal's skin. But he's too strong. So Angel lets the stake shoot out. It stabs through Mal's right palm and gets within two inches of his skin. At least Angel hurt him. Mal wraps his right hand around Angel's left fist, pretending not to notice the stake sticking through his hand, and slowly squeezes. Angel lands two right hooks. Mal lands a left hook. Finally, Angel's eyes water as Mal hears the bones crack. Mal reaches out his left hand, ripping the device off of Angel's left wrist. Angel lands a right hook before grabbing his injured left hand. Mal rips the stake out of his right hand. He squeezes his right fist and drinks the blood as it drips down.

ANGEL: You and your precious blood.

MAL: You are your precious eyes. Perhaps I should rip them out.

Mal runs at Angel and does a cartwheel kick. Angel moves to his left and avoids it, then punches Mal in the back. Mal turns and throws a left jab. Angel grabs Mal's left wrist with his right hand. Mal steps forward, grabs Angel's neck and picks him up, tossing Angel a few feet in the air. He kicks Angel in the chest with a left roundhouse when he's on his way down. Mal pushes Angel against the wall, then lands six body blows to Angel's ribs. Angel realizes the eye remark was a feint. He blocks the next two body punches and pushes Mal ten feet back. Angel charges out, and Mal retreats. Then Mal suddenly attacks, trying to catch Angel off-guard. He doesn't. Angel trips Mal up and throws him through the air. Mal stands up six feet in front of the wall. Angel puts his shoulder into Mal's back and tries to drive his face into the stone. Mal puts his hands out to prevent this. Angel lands three punches to Mal's back. When he turns around, Angel gives him a left kick to the stomach and a right hook to the left eye. Mal grabs Angel's arms and head-butts him in the face. It hurts a lot worse than most head butts. Mal leaps away from the wall and over Angel's head.

MAL: Now all you have left is that stake.

ANGEL: And my fists. And my feet. I'm a patient man. I could spent all day pounding on you before I go for the kill.

MAL: You do not want to do that.

Angel throws a left jab. Mal lowers his head, allowing the blow to strike his forehead. Angel pulls his left hand back in pain. Mal lands two right jabs, takes Angel's right hook, and knocks Angel down with a left hook. Angel stands up. His right knuckles are swollen and bleeding, and his left hand feels sort of broken. Mal throws a right hook kick. Angel moves to his left and avoids it. He tries a right kick. Mal grabs Angel's right foot and spins him through the air. Angel gets up. Mal stands there, waiting for Angel, rocking his head from side-to-side and singing.

MAL: "Don't dece-e-e-e-eive me.

Please don't le-e-e-e-eave me.

What would I do, without you, to see me through?

What would I do-o-o?

Say I wanna know-o-oh.

What would I do-o-o-o-o?

Where would I go-o-o-oh?"

Angel looks confused as he walks towards Mal, who senses Angel's presence, stops singing, and puts his hands in front of his face. Angel lands two right kicks to Mal's ribs. Mal blocks a left roundhouse kick, lands two right jabs, a left hook and a right roundhouse kick, knocking Angel down.

MAL: It's Ray Charles, fool! Where have YOU been? Ain't you familiar with the classics?

ANGEL: You mean Mozart? Haydn? [lands a very painful left jab, which Mal wasn't expecting]

MAL: Not quite my style. [Angel blocks his left cross]

ANGEL: You don't say? [lands a somewhat less painful right cross]

MAL: I prefer Bach, Schumann. [lands one right jab. Angel blocks the other one] Maybe a little Mahler. Now Gustav had soul. [Takes Angel's right kick. Lands a left kick, knocking Angel down] I believe I produced the only demon performance of the Symphony of a Thousand. With a thousand demons. Koshins. Gualnids. Selipons. The pitch-perfect, musically-gifted species.

Mal grabs Angel and body slams him. As Angel gets up, Mal swings his right leg and kicks Angel in the lower back, bringing back the pain he felt when Mal landed on him earlier in the fight. Angel avoids Mal's wild left cross and lands a right jab, which he fears hurt himself more than Mal.

MAL: You should hear Selipons sing "Tristan und Isolde." A thing of beauty. Brought tears to my eyes. Made me overlook the ridiculous doomed love, sex equals death, curse-by-orgasm story. You need some really great songs to make me take that concept seriously. Know what I mean? [Angel reaches for his stake. It's gone.] Looking for this?

Mal holds it up. When he grabbed Angel to throw him, he swiped his stake. Now he tosses it in Angel's direction. Angel grabs it, then misses with a right punch. Mal misses with a left punch. Angel holds the stake in his right hand. He's too badly hurt to go on much longer. He knows he must finish this quickly. Angel throws a left jab. Mal dodges the blow and responds with a right jab. This is the opening Angel was looking for. He moves his head to the left, avoids the punch, puts his right foot forward, stepping past Mal and to his right, then trying to stake Mal in the back with a right backhand thrust. Mal doesn't have time to turn around. His momentum is moving forward with the right jab his is throwing. But as Angel as Angel stabs, Mal casually pulls his left hand behind his back and grabs the stake. Angel puts his left hand behind the stake in order to drive it home. Mal reaches his right hand back and grabs Angel's throat. Then he brings his left foot back, sweeping Angel's legs. As Angel falls and Mal turns around, he rips the stake out of Angel's hand. Angel looks up as sees this. Mal takes a step back so Angel can't kick him while he's down. Mal twirls the stake in his left hand. Angel climbs to his feet, feeling like a bull who's about to be finished off by the matador. Mal moves around, taking small steps, trying to find Angel. Angel throws a right kick when Mal is not looking at him. Mal grabs his foot and pushes it rightward, turning Angel around. Mal stakes him in the back. Angel can see the point protruding out of his chest. Mal spins Angel back around and decks him with a left cross. Having devastatingly proved his point, Mal takes off the blindfold and lets it flutter down onto Angel's body while he makes sure the cross pierced Angel's heart.

MAL: Good. I didn't miss.

Mal walks towards the wall, climbs up and leaves. Angel stands and runs after him. When he is twenty five feet from the wall, ten demons leap into the arena from all sides. They are six-and-a-half feet tall, with big red chests, arms and heads, plus skinny, insect-like black legs and black backs, as well as two black foot-high horns on top of their head which point upwards, and one six inch-long black horn on their forehead points outward. In their right hands they carry green hooks which appear to be made of bone. A foot-long gray spike shoots out of the back of their left hands. Angel only has to get by two of them to make it to the wall. But that looks difficult without a weapon, especially considering his injuries. Angel turns around and sees his sword in the center of the arena. He runs back, picks it up and prepares to fight as the demons surround him.

NEXT: Wesley seeks help from Wolfram & Hart. The Hellmouth goes haywire. And Buffy gets her Pyrrhic victory over Seth.


	20. Meet The New Boss

[Wesley realizes that he hates the new guy at Wolfram & Hart far more than he even hated Gavin or Lindsey. Dawn's friends get caught up in some Hellmouth-related violence. Plus, Lorne returns with some intell on Mal.]

GUNN: Cops. Gang bangers. Nine people ripped out of their cars at stoplights in Bel Air. This guy gets around.

WES: And five more taken from their cars in West Hollywood. Those might have been the bodies dropped off here.

FRED: Did he feed off all these people?

WES: Not all the kills were necessarily his. I still maintain the five we found weren't.

GUNN: But the rest all sound like him. Busting into a police station, killing cops and criminals together.

WES: They do display an element of daring which sets them apart from most vampire kills.

GUNN: What about ripping people out of their cars at stop lights. Nothin' daring about that.

WES: He's terrorizing the local population. Imagine if even only one in ten people in Los Angeles feared that stopping for a red light after dark could get them killed.

FRED: But you add all these people up, and even if you subtract the five we saw, you still get like forty bodies. That's a lot of blood.

WES: Twenty gallons or so which could be drained. That would mean he drank his weight in blood.

FRED: Like a hummingbird.

GUNN: This ain't right. Right here, they call these guys "suspected gang members." I know them. They ain't gang bangers. [looks dejected] They're vampire hunters. I rolled with some of them back in the day.

WES: So we're not the only demon fighters he's after. I should have known. Mal seeks to dominate his environment, which in this case is the entire city of Los Angeles.

FRED: He's gonna try to kill every demon fighter in town?

WES: Human, vampires, demons. He'll try to subordinate them all. That's why he had to remove Angel. Mal must believe Angel is the only one strong enough to stop him.

GUNN: Naw. It's more than that. He knows Angel's a leader. Someone people can get behind. Well he ain't the only one. [gets up. walks towards the door.]

FRED: Charles, where are you going?

GUNN: To check on a few old friends. Let 'em know what they're up against. Only shot they got is if they're together. [leaves]

WES: Gunn is right. If the demon fighters remain scattered, Mal will pick them off one-at-a-time.

FRED: Or eight-at-a-time.

WES: All the more reason to concentrate your forces as much as possible. [gets up]

FRED: You too?

WES: Not exactly. I'm going to try to find someone who might know how to open that portal.

FRED: Ya need sleep, Wes. We all do.

WES: I won't be gone long. If I learn anything, I'll come straight back and you'll be the first to know.

Wesley leaves. Fred goes upstairs, checks on Connor, who's asleep, then heads to her room for a nap. Meanwhile, over at a Wolfram & Hart conference room, Clayton stands up before fourteen people sitting around a rectangular table. Clayton is six feet tall, with pale blue eyes, tanned skin and platinum blonde hair he ties back in a pony tail.

CLAYTON: Thank you, Daniel. You did a fantastic job of explaining everything I don't have the time to learn. Some of you may be asking, who's the head guy in charge? Do I work for Daniel? Does he work for me? Do we both work for Sofia? The answer is, no. We are independent of one another. Who the three of us report to is not your concern. As for who you report to, that depends on the issue. I am in charge of everything in this office which pertains to the County of Los Angeles. Daniel runs everything in the office outside the county but inside this dimension. I see a few confused faces. Unless you're a Senior Partner, you needn't worry about the other dimensions. And if you are a Senior Partner, what the hell are you doing here? [laughs] Sofia, who, by the way, happens to be Daniel's mother, is in charge of special operations. If you find yourself using the special ops department, then you know you're going at the problem all wrong. The Law is more powerful than any team of black-clad faux-ninja mercenaries. You and I, we are too powerful to ever need to resort to brute force. And what's important, that's where our enemies can match us. And that's the only place. In the court room, in the board room, in halls of power, they can't touch us. All they can hope to do is bash our brains out in some alley. All we have to do is make sure they never get the chance.

You all know what happened to your predecessors. They are dead because they forget this lesson. And, they are dead because they forgot to have fun. I'm serious. When it comes to fun, I'm deadly serious. The reason I am here, the reason David is here, and the reason you should be here, is to have as much fun as you possibly can. Why else would you work for Wolfram & Hart? If evil isn't fun, then you're not doing it right! When leave here every evening, I want each of you to ask yourselves, Did I have fun today? And if you didn't, figure out why, and promise to do things differently the next day. If someone gets in your way, go around them. Change your tactics. Or just ignore them. The good guys need attention. If you deny them that, they will go crazy. No creature is too powerful for us to neglect. So, in summation, keep yourselves happy and your enemies miserable. Never the other way around. Now let's go have some fun!

The group breaks up and files out. Clayton sees his secretary in the hallway.

CLAYTON: Naomi? Is something the matter?

NAOMI: There's someone in your office.

CLAYTON: I don't have a meeting scheduled.

NAOMI: I tried to keep him out. But this gentleman has a reputation for being violent towards women. Long story short, I didn't want to end up in a cage.

Clayton thinks for a few seconds, then smiles and strides confidently back to his office. He enters.

CLAYTON: I know this isn't your first time in this office. I had all the furniture replaced, as well as the carpeting. So if you did anything, unsanitary, in here, I'm sorry, but there aren't any mementos left for you to remember her by.

WES: Don't waste my time. You know why I'm here.

CLAYTON: No. I honestly don't.

WES: In case you are too think to notice, there is a new player in town.

CLAYTON: You mean the vampire who's killing all those people? Isn't that your department? Saving people so they can live to die another day?

WES: Clearly you don't understand the gravity the situation.

CLAYTON: Enlighten me, Master Price.

WES: By the way, I didn't get your name.

CLAYTON: I know. [pause. Wesley decides not to follow it up.]

WES: You're new here, so I understand if you're not yet on-the-ball. An extremely powerful vampire has come to Los Angeles. He seeks to destroy the balance of power in this city. In YOUR city. He wants to gain dominion over humans AND demons. I'm sure you're intelligent enough to realize that his success would be to your detriment.

CLAYTON: If a single vampire could do all these things, yes. But you sound alarmist. Anyway, if he's a vampire, and he's evil, won't your boss kill him soon enough?

WES: Yes. But perhaps not before he kills you. This vampire goes after the powerful, regardless of whether they're good or evil.

CLAYTON: That's a nice sales pitch. The week-old beard growth only adds to your sense of desperation. Makes you THAT much more credible. But it's still the same old tired boiler plate when you get town to it. [fake English accent] "Sir, we may be enemies, but we have a shared interest in preserving the short-term status quo." And what will happen if I fail to heed your warning? Maybe Angel dies. And that would be bad for me how?

WES: Your firm has a long-standing interest in keep Angel alive.

CLAYTON: And you saw how well that worked out for them. Policies change. The new policy is: We don't care about Angel. Alive, dead. Good, evil. We don't care. Go tell this to your boss. If he has any questions, he can call. I think he knows our number. Is that all? Because I want to get back to something that actually matters.

WES: So this is how they rebuilt Wolfram & Hart. Just add glib and stir.

CLAYTON: Something is not quite right with your visit. The sun hasn't disappeared. The sky hasn't fallen. But you're here. Something must be wrong with the Big Cheese. Why isn't he here for this big pow-wow? [Wesley gulps, because of what he is about to offer.]

WES: I can be of great service to this firm.

CLAYTON: I didn't know you were a lawyer.

WES: You know what I'm talking about.

CLAYTON: No, I don't. This is a LAW firm. Lawyers work here. They do legal work. Maybe a few of my predecessors couldn't handle the responsibility of power and tried to play Lex Luther, squandering their billable hours chasing after penitent vampires and their miracle boys. But that doesn't mean I'll make the same immature mistake. By the way, how is Miracle Boy? Did the new vampire on the block do something to him as well? Because I could so not care. If there's anyone I care less about than Angel, it's his boy. You know why? Of a kid grows up a hunter-gatherer in Hell, he won't wanna be a Champion and go through all the suffering that entails. He'll just ride go off to some farm in the middle-of-nowhere with a pretty girl and have lotsa babies. He won't even try to hurt me. His father will. But his father can't. That's all you need to know about where I stand.

WES: It's a good bluff. You must be bluffing. Because if you're not, then your employers have really kept you in the dark.

CLAYTON: I don't believe in prophecies. And if I did, I wouldn't try to change them. It's a freakin' prophecy! If it's wrong, why care? If it's right, then it's gonna happen no matter what you or I or anyone else does! Or, there's a third option. That's where people like you come in. The same people who call psychics and think John Edwards can talk to their dead relatives. You read a prophecy, you act as if it's going to happen, and in so doing, you actually help to MAKE it come true. You're the reason people write prophecies. It has nothing to do with predicting the future, and everything to do with altering it. Long story short, the Niazian scrolls are a priceless historical artifact which I consider to have zero predictive value. And everyone at Wolfram & Hart who believed otherwise is now dead.

WES: Angel is being held in a nodal dimension which can only be accessed by the vampire who took him there. Perhaps someone here knows something or has something which could held fashion a key to open the dimensional portal. I understand if your overweening pride compels you to feign disinterest. I will leave now. Once I am gone, you can relay this information through the proper channels. That way, you can serve your firm's interests and maintain your facade of self-assured smarm.

CLAYTON: It's not that I don't care about him at all. If Angel were to die, the news would bring me a small amount of pleasure. But not enough to cause me to go out of my way to make it happen. That's about it when it comes to me and your boss. Too bad for you Lilah's no longer around. She'd probably help you find Angel. Or, if she didn't, she'd let you ride her until you forget all about your boss. Lilah's a real nice piece for a guy like you to snag. Of course, everyone knows she really wanted Angel. Kind of like a groupie who can't bang the lead singer, so she sleeps with the roadie instead. [Wesley throws a right hook. Clayton anticipated this and jumped back in time to avoid it. He laughs.] You're a fun fiddle to play, Wesley Wyndham. We should do this again sometime.

WES: The day will come when you will need Angel's help. And when that day does come, and you're helpless and all alone, I hope you remember what you said on this particular day. Farewell. [Wesley walks out. Clayton sits at his desk.]

CLAYTON: Good guys. They think the world revolves around them.

Shortly before noon on Monday morning, Dawn runs into the house. With her are Kit and Elijah.

BUFFY: Dawn? Why aren't you in school? Are you cutting class again?

DAWN: It's not safe. Every one's going crazy. Every thing's going crazy.

BUFFY: What do you mean? Are there demons?

KIT: No. But the people are starting to be corrupted. By the Hellmouth.

DAWN: A big, huge tidal wave in evil energy. We got out before it crested.

BUFFY: Does that mean nothing's happened and you left because you're afraid something MIGHT happen?

DAWN: You think I'm making this up so I can skip school. I can't believe you don't trust me!

ELIJAH: I know. It sounds fishy. Here's how I see it: the Hellmouth's always been there. Dawn could have used this excuse played hooky on any day. But she picked today. And she picked it for a reason.

DAWN: Actually, Kit picked today. [Buffy looks suspiciously at Dawn's best friend.]

KIT: You have to trust me. Something is happening, and we're not safe there.

BUFFY: Not safe from what?

KIT: No offense, but of all people, you should be able to take this seriously.

GILES: What's going on. Is the Hellmouth opening?

KIT: It's always open.

GILES: True, in a certain sense. I meant, is it letting loose demons? Are people dying?

KiT: No. And no. But maybe yes in a little while. For the second one.

DAWN: The world's not ending today. People are just getting, like, infected by the negative energy.

ELIJAH: Speaking of negative energy, I have an AP Physics exam to take.

KIT: You're going back?

ELIJAH: It's not the sort of thing they reschedule because of bad vibrations. I'll be fine, Kit.

KIT: No you won't.

ELIJAH: I'm sorry. But I have to take my chances. Things get scary, I promise I'll be the first the run away. [kisses Kit on her forehead, then leaves]

BUFFY: I still need to know what you saw.

DAWN: Buffy, please trust us.

BUFFY: I need to see for myself.

GILES: Alone? You'd be vulnerable to you-know-who.

Kit looks up and to her right. Then she looks back at Dawn.

KIT: Are we safe here?

DAWN: Completely.

KIT: Is Willow doing a spell?

DAWN: No. Just research.

BUFFY: Kit, is there something you're not telling me?

KIT: About the school? No.

DAWN: Buffy, relax. [goes up to her room with Kit]

BUFFY: [to Xander] How much do you know about Dawn's friend?

XANDER: Buffy, she's just scared. Kit's not used to seeing the Big Evil.

BUFFY: She wouldn't say what she saw.

XANDER: She probably couldn't make sense of it.

FAITH: Besides, if they were cutting class, why would they come here?

A little after three in the afternoon, Lorne returns to the hotel and meets with Wes, Gunn, Cordy and Fred in a large conference room to the right of the lobby, part of Xander's rebuilding/remodeling.

CORDY: Where have you been?

LORNE: Where haven't I been? Or, more apropos, where hasn't Mal been?

WES: What did you learn?

LORNE: First, he's really famous. His name or his face is probably known in thousands of dimensions. Second, he's so powerful, most of the demons I talked to don't believe he's a vampire. They simply can't conceive of a vampire strong enough to enslave pure-blooded demons. The usual anti-mongrel snobbery.

FRED: He enslaved Angel?

LORNE: Mal's a reverse snob. He only enslaves. Not vampires. Not humans. Only demons.

FRED: I suppose even killer monsters can have their good traits. [Lorne looks nervous] Not you, Lorne. You're a good demon. A great demon, in my book.

LORNE: Mal controls at least ten nodal dimensions like the one he's stashed Angel in. Each node allows him to directly access ten or twenty different dimensions, as well as all the other nodes.

WES: Allowing him to travel very quickly to most parts of the known universe.

LORNE: That's the idea. The nodes themselves are essentially private estates where he makes the demons perform forced labor.

CORDY: So what has he done to Angel?

LORNE: In addition to the demon workers, Mal also captures demon warriors which he keeps around for his own amusement.

WES: As gladiators?

CORDY: Been there, so done that.

LORNE: No. As sparring partners. Mal fights them himself.

FRED: Do the demons you talked to have any idea how to break into one of these nodes?

LORNE: Other than convincing Mal to enslave you, no. But the Trojan Horse act's been tried, and it doesn't work. He's put down plenty of revolts. Let's just say, if we find a way to kill Mal, there's gonna be a whole lotta demons wanting to buy us drinks.

GUNN: I don't like fighting a guy with that many enemies. Way you tell it, Mal's a playa who's got every demon in a hundred worlds playa-hatin'.

LORNE: Several hundred. Maybe more.

GUNN: And if he can survive that —

FRED: What chance have we got?

WES: If Mal thought we were easy marks, he would not have taken Angel.

CORDY: So the fact that Angel's gone is a GOOD thing?

WES: Of course not. But it demonstrates that Mal takes us seriously.

LORNE: It could just be that he's prejudiced. Mal thinks humans are vastly superior to demons. In fact, a couple guys told me they heard that Mal occasionally makes his demon captives work for human masters.

FRED: Has he ever been to Pylea?

LORNE: No. I would have heard stories about him if he had.

FRED: Too bad. Ah mean, after Angel saved me and brought me back here, of course. Come on Lorne! Wouldn't you rather have him enslaving your people than kidnapping Angel?

LORNE: Of course, pumpkin. You know I'd sell my entire species into bondage to save Angel. Achy-machy, that's a scary thing to hear yourself say. [downs his drink] And, unfortunately, I don't think it's a viable option.

GUNN: Speaking of viable options, where's Connor?

CORDY: Downstairs. Training.

LORNE: He'll need it.

GUNN: By the way, did anyone else catch that story on the news about the killing at that golf course?

CORDY: Eight dead on the fairways at Oak Hills country club.

LORNE: That's where they're holding the Open next year. Possibly the swankiest, most exclusive club in town.

CORDY: I've heard the annual membership fee is in the low six figures.

WES: A haven for the rich and powerful. Sounds like a perfect target for Mal.

CORDY: Except that the killings took place in the middle of the day and under a blazing, vampire-roasting sun.

FRED: Mal's travelled across deserts plenty of times. I'm sure he knows how to protect himself against the sun.

GUNN: Channel five said there was a report of a guy in a black robe fleeing the scene.

CORDY: Isn't it enough that he's stolen Angel and beaten the crap out of us? Now, on top of everything else, we gotta watch out for this vampire twenty-four-seven. As if I didn't have enough reasons hate him.

It's a little before four thirty at the Summers residence. Elijah has returned, to the great relief of his girlfriend.

ELIJAH: The test was fine. Well, not fine. It was pretty tough. But peaceful. No interruptions. And no casualties.

BUFFY: So this evil mass hysteria Kit was talking about never happened?

ELIJAH: I didn't say that. Just that there were no casualties in the exam room. But when I got out, I heard about what happened in bio lab. They were dissecting fetal pigs. The pigs came alive, and grew real big. With tusks. Like wild boars.

DAWN: Or razorbacks?

ELIJAH: Yeah. The school mascot. They coulda been razorbacks. But that's not the point. The pigs ran out of the lab, charged into Vice-Principal Mooney's office, and ate him.

KIT: Oh my god.

XANDER: The PIGS ate the principal? That's an ironic and gruesome twist.

DAWN: The vice-principal. But he had been the acting principal ever since Principal Wood . . . you know.

GILES: I think it's fair to say Dawn and Kit were correct to leave early.

BUFFY: Are these demon pigs still loose?

ELIJAH: I don't know. The police searched the school and couldn't find anything. I heard Animal Control was out looking for them.

KIT: Did you see Carlos?

ELIJAH: No. I'm sorry, but once I heard about the man-eating piggies, I ran to my car. All the teams were out playing and practicing. Which I don't think they would've been doing if those things were loose on the school grounds.

DAWN: There's his car!

Kit opens the door. Carlos, Denise and Keith walk up to the porch. Carlos has a bruise under his left eye. Keith has a bloody lip. Denise has a bloody bandage wrapped around her right calf.

CARLOS: Can we come in? [Buffy sees them]

BUFFY: Of course. Hi Carlos. Denise. Ummm, Kevin?

KEITH: Keith.

BUFFY: Right. Sorry, Keith. Come on in. So what happened?

MOLLY: Keith?

KEITH: [smiles] Molly! You really are here a lot. [she runs over and hugs her boyfriend]

MOLLY: You're hurt.

KEITH: It was nothing. Coulda been a lot worse. [Willow, Xander, Dawn, Buffy and Giles crowd around Keith, Molly, Denise and Carlos. Keith feels a little overwhelmed by the attention] We're having a meet. I'm waiting to throw the javelin. Suddenly, my mind starts telling me to throw it into the other team's coach. I'm totally freaked. So I drop it. Then the guy from Central who was up before me threw his javelin into my coach's foot. Never seen anything like that in my whole life. So I grab him. Ask what the hell was wrong with him. He kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." I punched him out. Then Tim smashed his discuss into the head of the thrower from Central. And the runners started having a brawl.

DENISE: I'm in the blocks on lane four. Right before they shoot the starter's pistol, the runner in lane five spikes my leg. I fall to the ground, grab my leg, and she starts kicking me. So I grabbed her foot, pulled her down, and that's when everyone swarmed around us.

GILES: Did the starter's pistol turn out to have live bullets?

DENISE: No. I don't know. No one got shot, if that's what you're asking.

KEITH: I ran over to protect our runners. It was brutal. Everyone was out for blood. But runners are small. So I punched a bunch of Central guys out. Got hit a few times, but nothing major. Then their pole vaulter shoves the end of his pole into my mouth.

MOLLY: Are your teeth okay?

KEITH: Don't worry, Moll. I'm fine.

MOLLY: A metal pole in the mouth. He could have done a lot of damage. We should have been there.

BUFFY: You mean to break up the fight?

MOLLY: No. To teach that pole-wielding wanker a lesson. Let's go clean you up. [puts her right arm around his waist and walks him to the kitchen.]

KEITH: Really. I'm fine. But thanks for caring.

BUFFY: I think the Hellmouth's affecting her as well.

DAWN: Come on. You never got mad at someone because they tried to hurt YOUR boyfriend?

BUFFY: Yes. But those were demons.

DENISE: Your boyfriends?

BUFFY: Their enemies.

DENISE: Oh. [still looks a little confused. She knows about demons, but she's never seen one. Dawn's about to add that a couple of these boyfriends were demons, but decides that would take the conversation on an unhelpful tangent.]

DAWN: So what happened to you, Carlos?

DENISE: I pulled Keith out of the brawl, then went over to the ball field to get Carlos.

CARLOS: I had a no-hitter through four innings. Then their pitcher beans Ricky when he's taking practice swings in the on-deck circle. Forty feet from the plate! Said Ricky was timing his pitches. And Ricky didn't have his helmet on, cause this was between innings and he wasn't at the plate. Knocked Ricky out. After that, we just lost it. You can't let the other team to get away with something like that.

DENISE: You make it sound like it was your normal bench-clearing brawl. It wasn't. Not after they broke out the baseball bats. Keith and I pulled you out of there before before you got clubbed. You seemed pretty pissed at us.

CARLOS: I was mad. I wanted to stay and stick up for my teammates. But once I chilled, I knew you did the right thing. And getting in the middle of something like that to pull me out, you really risked yourself for me. That means a lot. Maybe I can pay you back some day. [Carlos smiles at Denise. She smiles back.]

DENISE: Let's hope you don't have to. [the tender moment over, she looks at Buffy and all the other strangers around her] So, Carlos said you people know what's causing this.

WILLOW: Yeah. In a very general sense.

GILES: Sunnydale is built upon an epicenter of evil energy. More specifically, the high school you attend is built upon the focal point, the origin of that demonic energy. It's directly below the principal's office, to be exact.

DENISE: Yeah. Carlos told me that, after the dead people attacked him in the basement, Dawn told him something about the Boca del Diablo. Does this have anything to do with the things we saw on Friday?

GILES: To a certain extent. The demons you spotted were drawn to Hellmouth's energy. It would appears that today this energy is unusually strong.

DENISE: So everyone at school got an extra big dose of evil radioactivity?

GILES: More or less. These things happen every now and then. They're always over rather quickly. I wouldn't worry about it.

CARLOS: This is the whole "You don't wanna ask" part I told you about.

DENISE: I get that now. [looks over Buffy, Willow, Xander, Giles, Dawn, Anya and Andrew] I really don't wanna ask. Thanks, Buffy. In advance. For whatever it is you always do to save us. And thanks to your dad for being so nice. [Buffy coughs and doubles over in shock. Giles looks like a deer in the headlights. Willow, Xander and Dawn gasp] Sorry. Stepdad? [because he has an English accent and Buffy clearly doesn't. This doesn't help. In fact, it only offends Buffy more. After a few seconds, they are able to speak.]

BUFFY: He is NOT my —

GILES: I am not in any way her —

DENISE: Oh. [embarrassed] I didn't mean to, ya know, imply anything. Just that every time I come over here, to Buffy's house, you're also here.

ANDREW: That's because he's her —

GILES: Former librarian.

WILLOW: Our former high school librarian.

ANYA: That's true. Yet, ironically, it's not as believable as this girl's falsehood.

DAWN: He's a friend of the family.

DENISE: Guess your family has an awful of friends. [looks at everyone in the kitchen, living room and dining room.]

XANDER: Buffy's always been very popular.

GILES: Would you like a fresh bandage? I could take care of that wound for you.

DENISE: Sure. That would be, that would be great, actually. [Andrew comes back from the kitchen with an ice pack. He hands it to Carlos]

CARLOS: Hey thanks man. [he's not sure who the eager-to-help blonde guy is.]

XANDER: You can sit right here. Or lie down. Whatever feels right.

Denise hops on her left foot towards the couch in the living room. She sits down next to Carlos. Giles comes over with a first aid kit. He tries to make small talk and divert Denise's attention from the weirdness all around her.

GILES: You said you're on the track team. Which distances do you run?

DENISE: 400 yard hurdles. 440 yard run. Plus the four by 440 relay. But the hurdles are my best event.

CARLOS: Denise has the indoor and outdoor county records.

GILES: That's very impressive.

DENISE: Thanks. I hope to make it to states next month. Provided my leg heals in time.

GILES: What year are you?

DENISE: Junior.

GILES: So you could do even better next year. Maybe even break the state record.

DENISE: Maybe. But most female runners peak at sixteen or seventeen. Hopefully I'll be one of the lucky ones who doesn't hit the wall. [Giles is reminded of something he read at the Watcher Academy about how most Slayers peaked at 16 or 17, and how few survived to face the test on their eighteenth birthday.]

GILES: I'm sure sure will. How long have you lived in Sunnydale?

DENISE: Two years. My parents came here for the good schools and affordable homes. Is that cause of the Hellmouth thing?

GILES: The affordable real estate part, yes. I don't know how to explain to good schools aspect. I didn't even know they were good. By the way, Carlos, when did you move here?

CARLOS: Last year. Around the same time as Kit. Where is she?

DENISE: I think she's with Dawn.

Rona, Amanda and Madari walk up to Denise and Carlos.

AMANDA: Hi Denise.

MADARI: Hi Carlos.

RONA: We just got off the phone. Clarence, Preston and Prashant are all at home. And they're okay.

CARLOS: Good. Thanks for the info, Rona. Nice to see you, Madari. [the three Potentials walk away. Giles is a bit surprised that his Potentials were on a first name basis with Dawn's friends.]

DENISE: So how come Amanda's here with all her friends? Those girls are always together. It's very strange.

Meanwhile, in the back of the living room.

ANYA: Do you think it's a good idea to care for these outsiders and let them into our baffling and disturbing world? Can you imagine what they'll think of us?

XANDER: Right now, they think we're nice.

ANYA: And we are. To a fault. But if Buffy keeps playing hostess, sooner or later they'll see something we can't explain away.

Spike walks out of the basement, travels through the kitchen, stretches his arms out and enters the living room.

SPIKE: My first decent day's sleep in two bloody weeks. Good morning. Did I miss anything? [sees Giles bandaging up Denise] Did she come in today? She looks like a strong fighter. Welcome, pet. [Denise is a little frightened by Spike. He has a way of doing that.]

GILES: Denise is one of Dawn's friends. However, she is not one of the . . .

SPIKE: Ohhh. One of the Scrappies, then. Why's she been fighting?

GILES: I'll explain later on. Or, someone else could. Right now, things are a tad hectic up here. Perhaps you could go down to the tranquil basement. Carlos, I think this room's a little dark. Could you please open the curtains? [Spike knows how to take a hint, especially one that's also a threat. He goes into the kitchen. Denise and Carlos look even more confused than before. Giles tries his best to come up with an explanation for Spike.] Buffy is a very, charitable, person. She helps people who are down on their luck. "If I don't help them, no one will." That's what Buffy always says. She has a very big heart.

Spike receives a more favorable audience in the kitchen. He waits by the microwave as his blood heats up. Sitting at the table are Elijah, Kit and Dawn.

ELIJAH: That's blood you're nuking, right?

SPIKE: Yeah.

ELIJAH: What kind?

SPIKE: Pig's.

ELIJAH: You buy that at the butcher's or something?

SPIKE: You come at closing time, they'll give you it for free. It's either that or they throw it down the drain.

ELIJAH: How much blood do you drink each day?

DAWN: Eli. Spike doesn't like to be bothered. [she doesn't like how friendly he is with Spike]

SPIKE: Eli's no bother. So how was LA?

DAWN: You told him about that? When?

ELIJAH: Some time last week. He was asking me about college. [Dawn looks at Spike in disbelief]

SPIKE: What's with the third degree? I have to get permission before I talk to your mates?

ELIJAH: That's weird. You worry about me having a conversation with Spike, but you don't worry about your boyfriend living with someone who killed your friends. [Dawn's eyes narrow and her jaw tightens. Kit who sits between them, tries to play peacemaker.]

KIT: Can we knock this off? They're both harmless. [Spike doesn't like being called harmless. But he did like Eli sticking up for him vis-a-vis Angel]

ELIJAH: I'm sorry, Dawn.

DAWN: It's nothing.

ELIJAH: That reminds me. I met Angel when I went to pick up Connor. I don't think he likes me.

SPIKE: [smiles] You don't say?

ELIJAH: Seems to think I'm some stoner who's gonna lead Connor astray.

DAWN: Why would Angel even think that?

ELIJAH: It might go back to that 200 year generation gap he's got with Connor. He sounded a little scared when he found out Connor was into hip hop.

SPIKE: [laughs] Figures. Angel likes Barry Manilow. [Elijah and Kit laugh. Dawn looks horrified]

DAWN: You mean when he doesn't have a soul?

SPIKE: Nope. Only when he does.

DAWN: I guess nobody's perfect. [she thinks highly of Angel, so this is a disappointment. She also wonders if Buffy knew about this, or, God forbid, if Buffy knew and didn't mind.]

KIT: And I thought my dad was embarrassing.

ELIJAH: You think that's worse than the vampire thing?

KIT: Absolutely. Culturally, vampires are seen as sexy and cool. Barry Manilow's neither.

ELIJAH: Y-you think vampires are sexy?

KIT: No!

SPIKE: Hey!

KIT: I meant they're sexy in movies and stuff. I wasn't talking about ACTUAL vampires.

SPIKE: You best mate found me sexy. Had a pretty serious crush on me. [Kit looks at Dawn, who appears embarrassed]

DAWN: I-I-I was fourteen. And it was during that KEY period in my life when I was feeling very alienated from real people. Remember the KEY period I told you about?

KIT: [to Spike] I wasn't saying you were gross or repulsive.

SPIKE: Can't say I take that as a compliment. But women have called me worse.

ELIJAH: However, Angel's friends all liked me. And the demon one seemed to like my singing.

KIT: You can sing?

ELIJAH: Very funny. It's a thing he does to make sure people are on the up-and-up.

KIT: He reads auras? [Willow and Kennedy enter from the dining room]

ELIJAH: Or thoughts. I'm not sure. The only one who didn't like me was Cordelia.

WILLOW: That can be a good thing. In fact, there was a time when that could be a badge of honor.

ELIJAH: Although I think she likes my brother David.

WILLOW: David Campbell? How could she not? He's so studly. [Kennedy looks at Willow] I mean, he was. Back when I knew of him and when I was straight. It doesn't mean anything. Like the time you said Connor was cute.

DAWN: [smiles] When did you say THAT? [this would only confirm Dawn's deeply-held personal belief that Connor is only the most gorgeous guy in the world.]

KENNEDY: I forget.

DAWN: But you said it?

KENNEDY: Yeah. And Willow got jealous, which was kinda funny.

WILLOW: Just like ten seconds ago when you got jealous over a guy I haven't seen since I was in high school.

KIT: Speaking of high school guys, did you see Keith with that Potential?

KENNEDY: You mean Molly?

Molly and Keith are standing on the back porch.

KEITH: Is something wrong? You seem distracted.

MOLLY: It's nothing you should worry about.

KEITH: I could go if you're in the middle of something.

MOLLY: No. Stay. [Keith smiles and puts his arms around her waist] Ow. [He touched her stomach wound, which is still healing]

KEITH: Sorry. [removes his hands. Molly grabs them and puts them on her stomach about four inches higher. Molly holds onto them as Keith holds her tighter.]

MOLLY: That's better. [Molly looks up at Keith, smiles and kisses him. Molly knows she's not safe. She also knows that Keith's the last person who could protect her. But, for the moment, being in his arms allows her to forget about Seth and the Reapers.]

WILLOW: So what's this Keith guy like? You make it sound as if you're not exactly crazy about him.

DAWN: Keith's a jerk. I mean, he used to be.

KIT: He picked on Elijah.

ELIJAH: No he didn't. I gave as good as I got. [Kit looks incredulous]

DAWN: Keith was your basic popular jock.

KIT: Except more predatory than most.

WILLOW: To women!?

KIT: No. Just the guys. Nerds and geeks like Eli.

ELIJAH: Thanks a lot. [Kit smiles and rubs his shoulder]

KIT: You know that's one of the things I like about you.

WILLOW: He doesn't sound like the sort of guy I'd want one of the girls getting friendly with.

DAWN: But he's changed. Molly's changed him.

KENNEDY: She turned a jerk into a sweetie?

KIT: Total 180. He's even being nice to Elijah.

ELIJAH: Actually, I think that's cause he's scared of Connor.

KIT: Connor made Keith stop being mean to you. He didn't make Keith start being nice to you.

WILLOW: Shouldn't be a surprise that a Potential can reform a boy. Look what a Slayer can do to a man. Isn't that right, Spike?

She smirks it him as he walks back down into the basement. He sneers back at her. Meanwhile, after bandaging up Denise, Giles went up to Buffy's room.

GILES: Does this change anything?

BUFFY: It does. We're still going after this creep. But now we know where to find him.

NEXT: Connor tries to play Slayer and order around Angel's friends. But Mal comes to put Connor back in his place.


	21. Eyes of the Storm

[Connor stages a coup at Angel Investigations. Mal consolidates his control over the L.A. vampire community. And Buffy discovers that Seth was just the warm-up act. Let's just say the First has benched the uber-vamp and brought in the uber-Slayer.]

Seth walks through the desolation of the Atacama Desert in eastern Chile. Jonathan appears before him.

"You're new," Seth tells him.

"Are you afraid of people?," Jonathan asks.

"You should know better."

"Then why do you avoid them? Why do you avoid life?"

"You call these humans life?"

"They remind you of what you lost."

"I lost people a thousand times better than any human."

"You feel guilty about what happened."

"I feel guilty for living? No. The people who died, they were the cowards. They took the easy way out."

"They died fighting," Jonathan reminds Seth.

"They wanted to die. At some point, they gave up. Couldn't take it anymore. But I could take it. I fought longer and harder than any of them. That was why I survived."

"And that was why I chose you. If everyone was as brave as you, maybe things could have turned out different."

"You're not evil," Seth concludes. Jonathan laughs.

"I most certainly am. I'm the ultimate evil."

"Not It. You. You weren't evil when you were alive. Not like the last one."

"No. I wasn't like Warren."

"I like you," Seth tells Jonathan. "I like you because you don't belong here." 

Jonathan likes what he's hearing. "Gosh. Thanks. I really wish there was someone as nice as you in my high school. If I had had a friend back then, things could have turned out differently for me."

"You're from that town. Does that mean you know Buffy?"

"Sure. But we weren't exactly close. What kind of dirt are you looking for?"

"Just the truth. What was she like?"

"Buffy's amazing. A true hero. Or heroine. Or something greater. It wasn't just her power, or the number of times Buffy saved my life, and everyone else's life. It was her heart. She had an almost bottomless capacity for forgiveness. Even if you were mean to her, or even if you tried to kill her once or twice, when something evil was after you, she'd come to the rescue. Buffy has an unflagging sense of duty. No matter how difficult things got, she always did what was right."

Seth thought about this. "Thank you for your honesty. She sounds worthy of our efforts. But what about the vampire?"

"You mean Spike?"

"What sense did you get of his character?"

"Not much. I really only met him once. And that was before he got his soul back. But after he started helping Buffy."

"What is he to Buffy? Why does she keep him around?"

"Remember what I said about her infinite capacity for forgiveness? That explains for a lot of it. But he's also useful for her to have around."

"As an extra fighter?"

"In part. But I think it's a little more than that. I'm no expert when it comes to him. But I know enough about Buffy to understand how lonely her life can be. And Spike loves her. Worships her, really. That probably gives her some satisfaction. Think about it: here's this evil killer vampire who turns into a good guy, who chooses to go good, all because of you. I'm not saying he's an ego boost or a vanity project, but Spike is an affirmation of Buffy's goodness."

"Does she need him?"

"Not specifically. But she needs someone. And, right now, Spike's the only someone in town who fits the bill."

"Would she miss him if he died?"

"In the near term." Jonathan notices that Seth is smiling. "Now hold on. What happened to Spike being the wedge?"

"Change of metaphor. Now I think he's the crutch."

"You actually believe killing this vampire will help our cause?"

"And it's the last thing she'd expect." Seth disappears. Jonathan shrugs.

"Oh well. I never liked him much, anyway."

In the lobby of the Hyperion, around eight in the evening, the gang discusses tactics.

GUNN: We take my truck. Lorne drives. Always keep the engine running, in case we gotta make a quick getaway.

FRED: We could try to run him down.

WES: He'll slip into an alley.

CORDY: But he'll find it tough to feed if we're running him off the streets.

GUNN: We have a slim chance of killing him. We all know that. But that doesn't mean we can't make life miserable for Mal while he's on our turf.

WES: It's not much, but harassing him would be a good way of regaining the initiative.

FRED: What kinda weapons should we take.

CONNOR: None. You're not going anywhere. [Connor's just come down the stairs]

CORDY: Do you know something we don't?

CONNOR: I know going outside could get you all killed. And I can't fight if I have to worry about protecting all of you.

GUNN: We can take care of ourselves, kiddo. ["kiddo" makes Connor mad]

CONNOR: No you can't. Let's say Mal gets a hold of you. Tell me how you're gonna get out alive?

FRED: We've got each other's backs. Just like always.

CONNOR: Do you know what you're up against? You can't even hurt him. All you can do is try to stay alive until Angel gets back. Think of how you'll feel explaining to him why one of his friends is dead. If anyone wants to leave, you'll have get past me first. [Connor stands in front of one of the doorways. He sees Gunn and Wes looking at the other] You really think you can beat me there?

FRED: You think we should all stay in and hide?

CONNOR: You stay. I fight. And if I catch any of you outside, I'll make sure you can't sneak out again.

Coming from Connor, the threat of violence was credible and alarming. as well as surreal. It was almost like he was pretending to be the leader. To the five of them, that was just plain ridiculous. A veritable violation of the laws of nature.

CORDY: Connor, we appreciate your concern and all, but we're backing you up.

CONNOR: No you're not. Didn't you understand my order?

FRED: Your, your what?

CONNOR: I'm in charge here.

LORNE: Says who? I'm sorry. Didn't mean to sound all immature. Hold on. Yes I did. Says who!?

CONNOR: Me. The strongest person's always in charge.

GUNN: You're kinda missin' the big picture, kid.

CONNOR: Don't call me kid, Charlie.

WES: What I think he means is, while Angel was the strongest, he led because he had the most experience.

CONNOR: That's not how it works in Sunnydale. The smart, older people work for the strongest person. Even if she's younger than me. As for experience, I've been hunting demons since I could walk. Probably killed more monsters than the rest of you combined. Anyone who thinks they know more about survival than me, step on up.

The five of them look at each other. Connor really sounds serious. Cordy motions to the office, and the rest of them follow her. One they're in the office, they start whispering, but realize Connor can probably still hear them. So Gunn turns on a radio to drown out their conversation.

LORNE: It's like we're being bugged or something.

FRED: What the hell has gotten into him? Connor wasn't like this last summer. Sure, he was evil, and hiding a terrible secret. But he wasn't bossy.

CORDY: You know what's gotten into him? Sunnydale. Now that he's met Buffy, Connor wants to play Slayer.

WES: He's completely misconstruing the Slayer-Watcher relationship.

CORDY: No he's not. Connor's got a point. Buffy took control from day one because she was stronger than everyone else. Experience and wisdom had nothing to do with it.

GUNN: You're forgetting something. Buffy's friends ain't demon fighters. Especially not back in the day.

WES: That's true. We're professionals.

CORDY: Say Connor goes out on his own. What do we do? Do any of you honestly think the five of us could stand up to Mal?

FRED: You're right. He's got us by the short ones.

LORNE: This is extortion. "Do what I say, or you'll die?" Are we gonna let that boy push us around like that?

GUNN: Careful Lorne. Connor hears you callin' him "boy," he'll be doing a helluva lot more than pushing you around.

LORNE: This is the problem. Isn't anyone bothered by Connor hijacking Angel Investigations while daddy's away?

WES: I agree. It's counterproductive. But short of convincing him of our wisdom, there's nothing we can do. Connor's figured out that we lack the power to compel him to do anything.

FRED: He thinks Angel's coming back. How bout we remind him how upset daddy will be when he learns of his son's tantrums?

CORDY: You guys don't get it. He's doing this FOR Angel. Connor thinks it's his job to keep us alive. He doesn't want to let Angel down.

WES: That's sweet. Except that he's wrong. We're not his to look after.

CORDY: Let's say you go out tonight and get killed. Who do you think Connor fears will get blamed for that? He's just trying to act responsibly.

FRED: Whatever his motives, he is holding all the cards.

LORNE: I always feared the day he'd become a tyrant.

GUNN: Hold on. How's he gonna take on Mal solo? What if Connor dies because we're not there to help him out? Angel would never forgive us.

FRED: But if you think Connor's such a poor match for Mal, who's he gonna protect US? Mal knocks Connor down, he leaps at us, we're history.

CORDY: Connor's tough. He can take a lot of pounding. More than all of us put together. And if Mal wanted Connor dead, why didn't he try last night?

WES: If he wants us dead, why didn't he try to kill us?

LORNE: In fairness to Cordy, he might not have known we existed. Mal came looking for Angel and Connor. We're expendable. Or worse. What better way to crush Angel's spirit than to let him know you're taking out his friends one-by-one?

FRED: So now you agree with Connor?

LORNE: I certainly don't agree with his methods.

CORDY: I think we should all stay home. Connor included. Or, at the very least, we should all keep close to the hotel.

WES: But there's the rub. Just as Connor can physically prevent us from leaving, we can't physically prevent him from going.

GUNN: How'd you handle these sorta things as a Watcher?

CORDY: Very badly. But Giles would try to reason with Buffy. And occasionally it worked.

FRED: Have we gone from trying to convince Connor everyone should go out to trying to convince him everyone should stay in?

GUNN: He's been training all afternoon. Connor's primed for a fight. No way he'll back down now.

LORNE: Then I guess we have no choice but to bow before the Mighty Connor. He's gonna make us bow, is he?

Buffy and Faith walk down a dark hall at the high school. Spike walks twenty feet in front of them. Suddenly, he turns around and points a pistol in their direction.

"You think you can just walk away?," Spike asks angrily. Faith puts her hands up and steps towards the wall to her right. Buffy takes a few steps back.

"Put the gun down," Buffy pleads. "You don't know what you're doing. It's, it's the Hellmouth." Spike walks towards her.

"A person just doesn't wake up one day and stop loving someone. Love is forever."

"Spike. Please. Put it down. Before you do something you'll regret." Buffy doesn't notice that Spike's not looking at her. He's looking past her. Faith starts to maneuver behind Spike to take the gun away, but Buffy shakes her head, fearing Faith' gambit could cause Spike to fire. Buffy slowly walks towards Spike.

"Then tell me you don't love me," Spike commands as he walks right past Buffy. He's staring into the distance, at nothing. Now Buffy's perplexed. "Say it! Say it, Dru!"

"Dru!!!???," a surprised and somewhat emotionally hurt Buffy exclaims. She grabs Spike's right arm, pulls it behind his back, takes the gun away and throws Spike to the ground. He looks up at her as if he doesn't know why he's on his back.

"What the bloody hell just happened?," Spike asks.

Faith walks over to Buffy. "You were waving a gun at a ghost. Hey, where's the gun?"

"It disappeared," Buffy answers. "Always does. Drusilla? You flew into a jealous rage and wanted to kill Drusilla?"

"Yes. But that was quite a few years back."

"No. It was just now," Buffy counters. Spike gets up.

"Spike's not the jealous one, B," Faith jokes.

"Whatever just happened, it wusn't me," Spike pleads. "I was possessed. I wusn't in control of my actions." Buffy isn't completely convinced.

"So you were taken over by someone ELSE who got dumped by Drusilla? How convenient."

"I dunno. Maybe it was a flashback. You said I wanted to kill her. And you wish I had wanted to kill you. That's what's got you sussed."

"Spike, that's stupid," Buffy responds.

"B's got a point. You'd have to be pretty sick in the head to want your guy to only think of killing you every time he goes psycho," Faith says with relish. Buffy starts walking again.

"Let's get moving downstairs," Buffy orders Spike and Faith. She's very eager to find Seth. Perilous life-risking combat is just what she needs to forget this latest incident, which disturbed her on multiple levels.

Mal has set up shop at the Orpheum, an abandoned downtown movie palace. On the screen is Paul Robeson, playing the lead in Eugene O'Neal's "The Emperor Jones." Mal watches from the first row of the balcony. Petey, the vampire projectionist, comes over to talk to him.

"Wasn't easy finding this print," Petey tells Mal. "Had to break into the UCLA film library. Killed a security guard so I could make a clean getaway. What's so special about this picture?"

"It reminds me of the perils of wielding great power."

"You're kidding. That's Mal being ironic, right?"

"Power is a burden. You must know how much you are strong enough to carry. And how much your captains are strong enough to carry. If you can't do both well, you get crushed."

"Okay, I getchya, Mal. Don't let your friends bite off more than they can chew."

"I prefer to see it as a reminder that no man is God. We are all mortal. We can all be killed. Never forget that."

"Is that how you've lived so long?," Petey asks Mal. "You never thought of yourself as an immortal?"

"Precisely."

"Whoa. So it's like a, like a paradox. Nice. Look, I gotta go change reels in a sec. Thanks for, you know, letting me bother you. It's always an honor to bug ya." Mal waves him off. Petey goes back into the projection booth and changes the reel at the right time. A few minutes later, a vampire named Lou approaches Mal.

"They're here," Lou tells Mal "I brought 'em, just like you wanted."

"Are they all leaders?," Mal asks. "Men who can bring in other men?"

"Yeah," Lou answers. "All the big movers and shakers."

Mal looks down and sees about thirty vampires milling around in the well in front of the screen. He raises his left hand. Petey turns off "The Emperor Jones" and turns on another projector. Bruce Lee's "Game of Death" appears on the screen with the sound turned off. Action films are Mal's idea of wallpaper, something that can be shown when he's not paying complete attention. Mal puts on his vampire face and leaps down from the balcony, landing on top of the seats five rows in front of the vampires. They turn, look up and are startled to see Mal come out of nowhere. He hops towards them and lands in the well in front of the seats. The vampires back away and give him room. Mal looks them over. He speaks Spanish to six of them. Then Chinese to two others. Then a little Vietnamese to one vampire, and a little Russian to another. It's his little way of connecting. Then he goes into his pitch.

"I will kill all of your enemies. In exchange, you will do as I tell you. Four nights from now, this town, and everything else within thirty miles of where you are standing, will be yours. Do we have a deal?" The vampires look at each other. This isn't what they were expecting.

"You don't want us to help you fight?," one of them asks.

"Leave the fighting to me. Your enemies will all be dead soon. Do not give them a chance to kill you in their dying days."

"Then what do you want us to do?," another one asks.

"Bring your friends."

Buffy, Faith and Spike walk around the school basement.

"I don't like the idea of Andrew driving my car," complains. "Why couldn't Anya take it?"

"Because she's going to be driving the van," Buffy answers.

"Can't they switch?," Spike asks back.

"The van holds more people. It's the primary escape vehicle," Buffy explains. "You're car's the backup plan. Anya's more dependable."

"So she goes in the Number One car. Makes sense to me," Faith concludes.

Buffy flips on a light. Where the seal once was, there is a shiny onyx circle of equal size. Inscribed on the circle are two infinity symbols which intersect at right angles. No writing. No other symbols. Just the two crude characters.

"Maybe they were in a hurry, and didn't have time to finish their work," Spike surmises.

"Do you smell Seth?," Buffy asks him.

"Not down here."

"You do know his scent?," Buffy wonders.

"It's a strong one. I can pick it up from a long way away," Spike assures her. "Let's go upstairs, check on the kiddies."

When they are on the first floor and walking towards the front door, Spike stops. "He's here."

"In the building?," Buffy whispers.

"I'd say about 120 feet that way, and forty feet or so to the right."

"If he teleported to the parking lot, could you tell right away?," a concerned Buffy asks in a whisper.

"In a second. Relax, love. He's right where we want him." The three of them turn right.

"Isn't this the way to that training room we used last week?," Faith whispers to Buffy. A few seconds later, when the door to the training room is fifteen feet in front of them and on their right, Seth quietly comes our through the door into the dark hallway. The cap and the necklace are gone. His hair is two inches shorter in back, trimmed to the level of his earlobes. He wears his usual black leather vest and black boots, as well as black leather pants, which he hasn't worn before.

"Oh where have you been, my blue-eyed son? And where have you been, my darling young one?," Seth sings as he walks towards Buffy.

"What is it with you and folk music?," Spike muses. "It must be the evil."

"Where is everyone?," Seth asks, looking a little confused. Then he vanishes. Buffy immediately dashes out to the parking lot, with Spike and Faith following close behind. But Seth is nowhere in sight.

"When we found him, he teleported right after saying he was coming after you guys," Buffy reports to Giles.

"We didn't see anything," Giles assures her.

"Not even a Reaper?"

"Not even a Bringer. It's been quiet."

"He's behind the school," Spike announces, pointing in that direction.

"Where behind the school?," Buffy demands to know.

"My nose doesn't have bloody radar."

"Take the van," Buffy orders Giles. "We'll go in the car." Buffy, Faith and Spike go towards Spike's car. Buffy takes shotgun. Faith sits in back behind Buffy. Willow sits in the middle of the back seat. Spike notices Andrew's in the driver's seat, and he's not budging.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you. You'll need to jump out and fight. Having me behind the wheel makes that easier."

"Can I at least ride shotgun in my own bloody car?"

"Shut up and get in back, Spike," Buffy commands. He groans and sits behind Andrew and to the left of Willow. Anya slowly starts driving the van. Andrew follows.

"Why aren't we out in front?," Spike demands to know. "I'm the one who can find him."

"And this car's got all the firepower," Faith adds. Andrew takes their hint and passes the van. They go about a hundred feet onto the grass when Spike tells them to stop on small ridge. Andrew pulls in sideways, with the passenger's side facing the playing fields. Giles parks fifteen feet in front of him. Buffy, Faith, Willow and Spike get out. Spike points up ahead and slightly to the right.

"There he is." Buffy squints and sees someone on a higher ridge 400 feet in front of them. Giles gets out of the van, but keeps the Potentials inside for now. Buffy begins to approach Seth. Rupert does not approve.

"That's too far to go. You can't allow yourself to be lured that far away from the girls.

"Then we drive closer," Faith suggests.

"There's a gully about sixty feet in front of us that the van could get stuck in," Giles counters. "I'm not about to drive through a damp meadow at night. Who knows what we could get stuck in."

"He'll come. We can wait," Buffy laconically concludes. As they wait, Spike remembers Seth's singing, and decides to mention that to Giles.

"He sang a few bars of a Dylan song. I can't remember the title. "Oh where have you been, my blue-eyed son?'"

"A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall,'" Giles tells him. "It's about an apocalypse."

"That might not be a good sign," Faith comments.

"It's certainly appropriate," Willow adds.

"You ready, Willow?," Buffy asks her best friend and secret weapon.

"Ready when he is."

Seth slowly walks towards Buffy, taking more than a minute to reach her. He hopes the long, nervous wait will intimidate them. He sees the van and guesses the Potentials are inside. Perhaps they're looking out the window at their deadly enemy. Buffy, Faith, Spike and Willow stop sixty feet in front of the van. Buffy stands in the center, with Faith ten feet to her left and Spike ten feet to her right. Standing next to Buffy, at her right hand, is Willow. Mal stops when he gets close. He scans the four of them, then takes a second, longer look at Willow. She's new. That bothers him. She's also the only one who is not armed. Buffy carries a sledgehammer (an ordinary one, not an Olaf-sized one). Spike has a baseball bat bat, and Faith a mace. Ironically, this relaxes Seth. It reminds him that they are afraid of him and cannot beat him bare-handed.

"If I had known you were bringing weapons, I would have," Seth pauses and smiles, "No, I still wouldn't have brought any. I have everything I need to kill you under my skin."

"Me too," Willow says with a grin. "Ligate!"

Willow holds out her right hand. A white string shoots out from her index finger and wraps around Seth's body, pinning his arms to the sides of his body and binding his legs together. The First had never mentioned anything about witches. Then again, the First liked to keep him in the dark. Almost like they wanted him to fail. Seth struggles to free himself as Buffy charges and hits his face with her sledgehammer. Spike nails Seth's left ear with his bat, and Faith drives her mace into his right temple. Buffy swings her hammer into his chest, knocking Seth on his back. As Seth struggles to break free and absorbs blow after blow, Giles opens the van's side door and leads the eight Potentials outside. They array themselves in a circle twenty feet in front of the cars and forty feet behind Buffy, ready to either fend off Reaper attacks or come to Buffy's aid if the Reapers decided to swarm her. Giles stands ten feet in front of them and just to the right of Willow, who ran back after doing what Buffy wanted.

Seth rolls back-and-forth on the ground for eight seconds, during which time Buffy, Faith and Spike land more than twenty powerful blows to his head, chest and knees. When Seth finally manages to plant his feet on the ground and stand up, his arms are still bound. Buffy smashes his face yet again. Faith, carrying the lightest but quickest weapon, hits Seth three times in the side of his skull. Spike adds a strike to the left side of Seth's jaw. He grinds his teeth, tightens his hands and arms, and finally bursts free. With his left hand, Seth grabs the barrel of Spike's bat before it can hit him. With his right, he grips the head of Faith's mace. Buffy swings down for his skull. Seth bends backwards, until his chest is almost parallel to the ground. The hammer misses. He pulls his knees apart, freeing his legs. Buffy swings again. Seth stands upright, swings his right foot, and kicks her in the chest before she can land her blow. Buffy is knocked on her back. Seth rips the mace from Faith's right hand. She lands a left cross to his right cheek. Seth downs her with a left hook. Spike strikes him in the back. Seth doesn't turn around, as if the blow isn't worth answering. Spike nails the back of his head. Seth spins and clobbers Spike with a right hook. He staggers back but stays on his feet. Seth follows.

Just when Seth is about to throw a left cross, he sees Buffy to his right, swinging her hammer. Her very painful hammer. Seth still looks fresh, but the blows have taken their toll. Now, he reaches his right hand up, grabs the hammer head when it is a foot from his skull, and rips the weapon away from Buffy. Spike hits his face with a right hook. Seth swings Buffy's hammer and pounds Spike in the chest, knocking him on his back. Seth glances to his right and sees Buffy and Faith ready to punch and kick him. Seth starts swinging the hammer over his head. This causes them to take a step back. One good swing from Seth could crush either of their skulls. Seth smiles. Then he hurls the hammer towards Willow. It tumbles along the ground and lands within ten feet of her. Clearly, if he wanted to, Seth could have tossed it into Willow's head. Or into the head any one of the Potentials for that matter.

"Sometimes turnabout isn't fair," Seth explains.

Spike grabs Seth's arms and holds them behind his back. Faith lands a right uppercut and left hook. Buffy connects with a left jab and right cross. Seth rips his arms free and swings his hands like he's clapping them behind his head, boxing Spike's ears in, disorienting Spike and knocking him down. Then he swings his arms out in front of him, brings them together and slams Buffy's and Faith's skulls together. Seth smiles and shrugs, looking down at the Slayers. "Or even necessary," he adds with scorn.

Seth chuckles as he turns around. Spike rises to his feet, perhaps a moment or two prematurely. He hasn't fully regained his balance. On top of everything, the hammer to the chest left his sternum feeling a little fractured. Seth gives him a right kick to the chest and a left uppercut to the chin, sending him into the air. Spike lands on his back ten feet away. Seth closes in. Spike doesn't understand Seth's fixation. The Slayers are standing up twenty feet behind Seth. He doesn't even care. Spike rises to his feet in time to get popped with a right hook. He spins around, but stays on his feet. When he turns back to face Seth, he's bumpy.

"I've always liked the attention," Spike tells Seth before throwing a right hook, which Seth blocks. Spike does land two left jabs. "Some might say you're playing right into my hands." Spike smiles and tries to hide the pain. Seth lands a left jab to his nose. The Slayers come at Seth from behind, Buffy on his left, Faith on his right. When they are close enough, Buffy does two quick high left hook kicks, and Faith does two quick right hook kicks. Both sets of kicks land on opposite sides of Seth's face at the same time. Seth looks a little rattled. "Plus, you're making the ladies mad by ignoring them." Buffy lands a left cross to Seth's left eye at the same moment when Faith lands a right cross to his right eye. "Never a good idea to brass off two Slayers," Spike says with a smile as Seth falls down. He quickly gets up.

The three of them stand in front of Seth: Spike dead center, Buffy on his left, Faith on his right. Seth turns his head to the right and looks at the Potentials in the distance. He smiles.

"Reapers do the best surprise attacks. They never hear 'em coming." Buffy can't help but glance to her left, just to be sure they're safe. Seth steps to his left and knocks her down with a swift but mighty right hook. All he needed was to distract her for a split-second. Seth looks down at Buffy. "Made you look," he taunts.

Seth turns around. Faith's in front of him. Spike's on his left. He knows Spike's hurting, so he's not too worried about him. Seth steps forward and prepares to throw a right cross at Faith. But instead, he spins and downs Spike with a surprise left roundhouse kick to the face. On his follow through, he puts Faith on her back with a left hook. He kicks her in the back while she's down before turning to face Buffy. As he walks towards her, he adds "And if my boys do show up, it's not like you could help those girls."

Buffy's sends a right hook kick for his face. Seth grabs her ankle with both hands. His grip is too strong for her to back flip her way out of this one. Seth swings his arms to the left, picking Buffy up and slamming her into the grass. Then he swings his arms to the right, slamming Buffy down yet again. He picks her up over his head and tosses Buffy high in the air behind him. Faith starts to stand up. She's not looking straight overhead. Buffy comes down right on top of her. While Buffy was in mid-air, Spike landed a right cross and left hook to Seth's face. Spike glances to his right to see Buffy fall on Faith. Seth hears the collision and smiles. He throws a right cross to take advantage of Spike's distraction. But Spike knew he'd do this. He reaches his right hand across his body, grabs Seth's right arm to block the punch, and lands a left cross, knocking Seth a few steps back. Spike takes three steps back, getting further away from Seth. This gives him time to stall while the Slayers recover, and also gives him room to react to Seth's next attack. Seth leaps fifteen feet towards Spike. He's ready for the kill.

To his right, Giles sees three Reapers rushing towards the Potentials. He waits until they are within fifteen feet of the girls. Then he steps towards the one closest to him, swings his ax and beheads the demon. It was too focused on the girls to see Giles coming at him from the right. The other two Reapers engage one side of the Potentials' formation. Kennedy and Molly battle one. To their right, Rona and Amanda battle the other. Giles comes at the one fighting Kennedy and Molly. He kicks Giles in the chest, then flees. The other Reapers joins him. On the opposite side of the circle, five Reapers comes out of nowhere and race towards Ariella, Madari, Fadila and Izora. Willow steps towards them and holds out her right hand. "Aeolus!," she calmy commands as her eyes dilate. A gale-force gust of wind knocks the Reapers over when they are within ten to fifteen feet of the girls. Shaken by the unseen attack, the Reapers rise to their feet and retreat. Giles walks over to Willow.

"Two are missing," he tells her.

"Excuse me?"

"There are ten. We've seen eight. Where are the other two?" Giles walks around to the other side of the cars to check if they're hiding. He also checks under the cars. Finding none, Giles rejoins Willow, but still keeps looking for the enemy while Willow intently watches Seth, ready to hold him back if he gets past Buffy.

For now, Seth's not focused on the Potentials. Or the Slayers. He hits Spike in the mouth with a left jab, but Spike avoids his right cross and responds with one of his own. Seth grabs Spike's right hand and spins him around. He puts his right hand under Spike's chin, his left hand on top of Spike's head, and tries to snap his neck. Spike reaches up with both hands, grabs Seth's head and flips him forward. While down, Seth reaches his left hand back and pulls Spike's left leg up off the ground, causing Spike to fall down. They both get up. Seth turns to face Spike, who lands a right hook. Seth responds in kind, giving better than he got. He adds a left hook to Spike's ribs. Spike tries a left cross. Seth blocks it, nails Spike in the sternum with a left jab and knocks him down with a right uppercut. He gets on top of Spike, takes out a wooden stake in his right hand and goes for the kill. Spike grabs the stake with his left hand. Seth pushes harder, forcing Spike to grab Seth's right wrist with his right hand. Seth lands three left crosses to Spike's nose while Spike uses all his strength to keep the stake an inch or two away from his heart. Buffy kicks Seth in the mouth with her right foot. Seth puts his left hand behind the stake to make one final attempt. Faith kicks him in the left side of his face with her right foot. Seth rolls off of Spike. Now Buffy and Faith are also wondering about Seth's odd fixation. Seth stands up, spotting Buffy on his left and Faith on his right.

"I hope you lovely ladies aren't feeling left out," Seth tells them. "The men die first on Mondays. Women and children last." He blocks Buffy's right cross with his left hand and downs her with a right cross of his own. Immediately after landing the punch, he sends a left reverse kick for Faith's face. She grabs his foot with both hands. Seth swings his right leg around and pounds Faith with a right hook kick. As she falls and rolls along the ground, Seth keeps spinning, his body parallel to the ground. After one full post-kick rotation, he lands on both feet, sticking the dismount. Spike approaches and lands a left jab, right uppercut and a left cross. Seth staggers back. Spike, whose nose and lips are bleeding, whose cheeks and chin are bruised, and whose left eye is nearly swollen shut, steps towards Seth and away from Buffy and Faith. Seth lands a right hook, and Spike answers with a right cross.

"Gotta give the walking dead man his due," Seth offers before landing a left jab and avoiding Spike's left cross. "You never give up, which is an ironic trait in a slave." Seth quickly spins around and nails the left side of Spike's face with a right roundhouse kick. The he grabs Spike by the ears, pulls him in and pounds Spike's nose with a head butt. He takes hold of Spike's t-shirt with his left hand to make sure Spike's doesn't fall on his back, pulls out the stake in his right hand, and quickly goes for the kill yet again. Spike reaches across his body and grabs the stake with his right hand just in the nick of time. He smiles.

"Your master tell you I was an easy mark?" Spike spits a big glob of bloody saliva , hitting Seth right between the eyes. "They never had a bloody clue about me." Seth pushes Spike to the ground, drops his stake and wipes the blood and spit off his face. Buffy flies at him and knocks Seth down with a leaping right kick. When he gets up, Faith nails him twice in the skull with Spike's baseball bat. Buffy gets him in the chin with a straight right kick, a left roundhouse kick and a right hook. Moving from Buffy's right to her left, Faith wails on the right side of Seth's head, giving him three very good whacks. While she did that, Spike ran back, got Buffy's sledgehammer handed to him by Willow, and tossed it to her. Buffy turns around, grabs it, turns back around to face Seth, and brings the hammer down onto the top of his skull. Seth wobbles and takes a few steps back. Green fluid flows down from his eyes like emerald mascara. He puts his hands to his face, notices the leakage, and appears to be afraid. He looks behind him into the darkness.

"It's not time. It's not time." A woman walks up behind him. She is five foot nine inches tall (an inch shorter than Seth), with light brown skin (a tad darker than Seth's), glowing blue eyes and long, purple hair. She wears a skin-tight dark blue leather jumpsuit. The woman stands to Seth's right, holding his right hand with her left. He turns to look at her.

"Nina, there's still more I need to do." Nina puts her right hand to his face and stares into his green eyes. Once clear and vibrant, they are now cloudy and sluggish. Nina looks concerned, almost pained.

"Seth, brother, you've done plenty," Nina reassures him with a smile. Seth starts to walk forward. Nina, still holding Seth's hand, walks with him. Buffy, Faith and Spike back up. Buffy signals to Giles that he should get the girls in the truck and leave immediately. Giles turns around, and he sees Andrew and Anya, standing in front of the vehicles, a Reaper holding a dagger to each of their necks.

"It's a bluff." He looks at Kennedy, who isn't so sure. "They're bluffing! They can't kill civilians. It's a bluff!" Kennedy can see from the look in his eyes that Giles is completely convinced. And she's eager to make a getaway from the new arrival. She charges the Reapers. The other seven Potentials follow. The demons drop Andrew and Anya, then pull out their swords. Kennedy lets out a battle yell, runs towards the one on the left and stabs her sword straight through his face. But as the Potentials overrun these two Reapers, the seven other Reapers take them on both flanks. On the left side of the line, a Reaper raises his sword to strike Kennedy, who doesn't see him coming. Molly, who is behind Kennedy, uses her ax to chop off the demon's right hand. Kennedy turns, sees the Reaper, and chops off his left hand, which isn't hard because his dagger's much shorter than her sword. Molly lops off the Reaper's head with her ax. Rona, who was behind Molly and, now that they've turned, is on Molly's left, fights another Reaper. Molly helps her out. The Reaper avoids Rona's sword and knocks her down with a right hook kick. He then pivots to hit Molly with a right roundhouse kick. She swings her ax. While he spins around, the Reaper ducks, avoids the ax and knocks Molly down with the kick. Kennedy and Amanda hold the line against this Reaper and one other until Molly and Rona get up and resume the fight. On the right flank, in front of the van, Izora cuts all the way up the Reaper's chest with her short sword, while Madari knocks him down with the hammer end of her poleaxe and chops off his head with the ax blade on the other end. Four more Reapers charge in from the right, overwhelming Fadila and Ariella, who do all they can to keep from getting cut to ribbons. Giles rushes in to help. Fadila gets a deep sword slash in her left biceps and a dagger stab deep into her abdomen. Ariella gets slashed across her right cheek, two shallow stab wounds in her ribs and a shallow slash on her right calf, from when she used a kick to keep them at bay. But they both stay on their feet, and in a few seconds Madari and Izora rush over to help. Anya opens the van door and starts the engine. Willow looks at the fighting. Then she glances back towards Seth and the new woman. Whoever that is, Willow hopes she can hold her and Seth off long enough for the Potentials to overpower the Reapers, get in the cars and escape.

"Look at them," Seth pleads, his voice quivering. Spike bears the telltale marks of a more-than-thorough thrashing. Buffy has a big bruise on her right cheek, a large cut just under her left eye and a bloody nose. Faith has a large bruise under her right eye, a bloody nose, bloody lip and bruised chin. "They can't hold up much longer. Give me five minutes, and I'll kill two, guaranteed. Maybe even all three."

"Look at me, brother," Nina responds. She kisses her brother on the forehead, he kisses her right cheek, and they embrace. "You have done an incredible job." They finish hugging. "But some things need a woman's touch." Nina puts her hands to Seth's skull – the skull that had endured so much Slayer pounding – and crushes it, all the while looking at Buffy and Faith. Their jaws drop. Nina grins. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

NEXT: Nina goes to work, and things get very ugly, very quickly.


	22. Ripper

Buffy lunges at Nina and swings her sledgehammer. Nina leaps in the air, flying over the Slayers and Spike. She lands thirty feet in front of the van. The eight Potentials gallantly try to fight off the six Reapers in order to make their escape. Madari puts an ax into one of their chests, weakening it, but not before it swings its sword for her neck. She ducks her head down and to her right. The single-bladed sword slashes the left side of her neck, creating a shallow, four inch-long wound. She swings her ax again, driving the Reaper back. In the heat of battle, she doesn't notice that her shirt is becoming soaked with blood. To her left, Izora uses a small, forked trident-like weapon to catch the Reaper's dagger, then kicks him with her right foot. The Reaper attacks again. Zora switches hands, putting the mini-trident in her left hand and her sword in her right. She blocks his sword slash with the trident, ducks under under a right hook kick, then sticks her short, wide-bladed sword into his left thigh. The Reaper retreats. Working together, Ella and Fadila drive a third Reaper back. The four of them rush to the van. On the left wing, the three Reapers retreat and surround Spike's car, worrying Andrew, who's sitting in the driver's seat. Kennedy, Molly, Rona and Amanda join the other Potentials in racing for the van.

Twenty feet in front of them, Willow's eyes take on a reddish glow as she glowers at Nina, who's ten feet in front of her. "Eschatae," Willow commands. A force field appears between the two of them. Nina steps forward, reaching her left hand towards the barrier. Willow reaches out her right hand, trying to push her back. Nina's left hand pierces the force field. She grabs Willow's right hand, then walks through the barrier, which collapses. Nina kisses Willow's right hand.

"Sticks and stones, sweetie," a smiling Nina tells a stunned Willow before knocking her down with the back of her right hand. Giles stands right behind Willow, wielding his battle ax and looking fully prepared to die before letting Nina pass. As he swings the weapon downwards, Nina reaches her left hand up, grabs the handle and tosses the weapon to her left. When Rupert still holds his ground, Nina knocks him out with a right uppercut to the chin. "You did your best," she casually and condescendingly reassures the unconscious Watcher before leaping at the van while the girls are piling into it. Madari and Rona have already gotten in. When Nina appears, the girls shriek and get out of the way. Molly, Kennedy and Amanda move to her left. Ariella, Fadila and Izora move to her right. Nina pushes the van over onto its left side. At the same time, the six Reapers, standing on the left of Spike's car, overturn it in the other direction. Andrew manages to leap out before the vehicle is turned upside-down. Then the Reapers flee into the darkness, leaving Nina alone with her now-stranded enemies.

By now, Buffy and company have arrived on the scene, though without their cumbersome weaponry. Nina turns to face them. "Here come the heroes to the rescue," Nina announces. Buffy throws a right kick. Nina allows it to hit her face, then spins clockwise. On the first rotation she lads a left left hook kick, on the second, a right roundhouse kick, and on the third, a left hook. The three powerful blows, executed in less than two seconds, knock Buffy out. Spike lands a right hook to Nina's face. She turns to her left and downs Spike with a quick right cross, left uppercut combination. Faith lands two right hooks to the left side of Nina's face. She turns around and puts her right hand around Faith's neck before she can react. Nina lifts Faith's feet off the ground and hurls her to Nina's right. Faith's head slams into the van's exposed chassis.

"Oh well. They tried," Nina says to no one in particular. During the ten-or-so seconds the putative superheroes held off Nina, Rona, Madari and Anya climbed out of the overturned van. There is no one left to protect them. Anya runs over to Giles to help him get up. Nina turns to her left and looks at Kennedy. "Now where were we?," she asks herself. Ready to take the lead, Kennedy charges at Nina and swings her sword. Nina ducks down, shoots her head and shoulders towards Kennedy's knees, avoids the blade and knocks Kennedy down with a vicious cut block. Nina quickly bounds to her feet. She reaches out, grips Molly's neck with her right hand, and plunges her left hand into Molly's chest, ripping out her heart for all to see. Never have the Potentials been more afraid, sickened or demoralized. Nina quickly shoves the heart back in and drops Molly's lifeless body to the ground. Nina turns round and walks towards Ella, Zora, Fadila, Madari, Rona and a limping Kennedy, who stands in front, still committed to being the leader no matter the costs.

"I'll let the wounded go," Nina announces. "I like my kills fresh." Ella, Fadila and Madari are all cut and bleeding badly. Kennedy can barely stand up, let alone fight. Amanda, who is behind Nina, swings her sword for Nina's neck. She slices right through it. But as soon as the blade leaves the flesh, it repairs itself. Nina whirls around and knocks Amanda down with a left roundhouse kick. Rona and Kennedy charge Nina. She leaps eight feet straight up into the air, does a mid-air somersault and kicks both girls in the back, knocking them on their faces. She reaches back, picks up Kennedy with her right hand and looks into her eyes, holding Kennedy so that her body is between Nina and the four standing Potentials. Kennedy punches her twice in the face with her right hand. Nina puts her left palm to Kennedy's right cheek, smearing her face with Molly's blood. Rona comes at Nina from behind. Nina swings her left arm backwards, felling Rona with a blow from the back of her left hand. Willow has gotten up by now. She chants angrily and frantically, creates a red fireball between her two hands, and commands it to strike Nina. Her body absorbs the ultra-powerful dark magic without so much as a wince or a shiver. Nina glances to her right. "She chose this fate," Nina tells Willow, right before she moves her left hand towards Kennedy's chest. Nina had been willing to leave the injured Kennedy alone, so long as she left Nina alone. Of course, Kennedy could not stand by as Nina took out some other Potential.

But before her fingers can pierce the skin, Izora comes running up on Kennedy's right. She pulls out the pistol Willow/Warren bought and fires at Nina's face from point-blank range. The force of the first shot causes Nina to step back and drop Kennedy. Five more shots follow in rapid succession, knocking Nina nearly thirty feet backwards. But the bullets leave no lasting wound once they're exited out the back of Nina's skull. After the sixth shot, Nina steadies herself, reaches her left arm out and rips the gun out of Izora's hands as the errant seventh shot hits nothing. Nina then sticks her left and right index fingers into Izora's right and left ears. The fingers pierce the eardrums and meet in the center of Izora's brain. Nina executed the move in the blink of an eye. Izora's face looks stunned, yet peaceful, and her body tumbles to the ground. Fadila yells out and tries to charge at Nina, but a tearful Ariella holds an even more tearful Fadila back.

Buffy, Spike and Faith regained consciousness just in time to see Zora die, but not in time to prevent it. Buffy was ten feet away when the Nina gave the mortal wound. A split-second later, Buffy hurls a leaping right hook kick at Nina's head. She hops back out of the way. Buffy lands on her feet and tries a left jab, right cross, left cross and right uppercut. Nina blocks them all, grabs Buffy with both hands and tosses her thirty feet backwards. Faith lands a cartwheel kick. Nina connects with a damaging right kick to Faith's left knee, a right hook kick to the left side of her head and a straight left kick to Faith's chin which knock her down. Spike leaps at Nina, grabs her and sinks his fangs into the right side of her neck. She plunges the fingers on her left hand into Spike's chest, causing him to stop biting and to cry out in pain. He can feel the tips of her fingers on the back of his heart. Buffy lands a right hook to Nina's face. She takes her left hand out of Spike's chest, knocks him down with a right jab and gets nailed in the head by Buffy's right hook kick. Nina knocks Buffy down with a left roundhouse kick.

Frustrated and infuriated by Nina, Willow takes another crack at her. "Ligate!," she commands. But what worked on the brother doesn't work on the sister. Nina holds up her right hand, grabs the magical strand that was supposed to bind her, and whips Willow's face three times with it. Then it wraps itself around Willow's neck and keeps tightening. Willow's falls to her knees. Her face turns bright red, then purple as she struggles to breathe. Kennedy runs over and uses her sword to cut it off and save Willow. Meanwhile, Faith tries to prevent Nina from reaching the Potentials. Nina blocks her left hook kick and right roundhouse kick, then lands a left hook to Faith's face. Faith responds with a left jab and right hook, but Nina blocks them both before connecting with a right jab to Faith's nose, a left hook to her ribs and a right uppercut to her stomach. Nina then tosses Faith to her left. She bounces off of the underside of Spike's car before falling to the ground, worn out from the pounding she took from both Seth and Nina. Spike is also unable to get up and continue. The siblings had been especially tough on him. That leaves only Buffy.

Giles, desperate to help, but reminded by Anya that attacking Nina would be pointlessly suicidal, fetched Buffy's sledgehammer and raced to bring it to her. Rupert is fifteen feet to Buffy's left when Nina closes with the Slayer, so he tosses it. Buffy grabs the middle of the handle with her left hand, puts her right hand on the bottom of the handle and swings for Nina's face. Nina calmy reaches her arms out, grabbing the hammer with her right hand and the handle with her left. Then Nina uses her right foot to sweep Buffy's legs out. As Buffy falls, Nina rips the hammer out of her hands and hurls it like a tomahawk at Kennedy, who's kneeling over the injured Willow about thirty feet away. Seeing the hammer, Willow reaches her left hand out and tries to alter the weapon's path. But she fails. Kennedy ducks, and instead of hitting her in the face, the hammer glances off the top of her head, which still knocks her out and gives her a concussion. Willow, of course, feels awful about this. She's never struck out so completely when the stakes were so high.

Buffy tries a left sweep kick. Nina pulls her head back out of the way. Buffy then throws a right roundhouse kick. Nina brings her fists together and smashes them into both sides of Buffy's right ankle as it swung towards Nina's face. Buffy can feel the bones crack as she brings her throbbing foot back to the ground. Desperate to hold Nina off as long as possible, Buffy grits her teeth and throws a right cross. Nina grabs Buffy's right wrist with her left hand and twists it around, spraining the wrist. At the same time, NIna lands three powerful right jabs to Buffy's nose. Then she spins around and puts Buffy on her back with a leaping right roundhouse kick to the head. Before leaving Buffy, Nina reaches down with her left hand and rips out a lock of Buffy's hair by the roots. She wraps it around her right fist as she walks towards the Potentials. No one's left to try to protect them, save Andrew, Anya and Giles. She walks by Andrew and Anya, who back away towards the girls. She looks to her right at Giles, who's picked up his ax. Nina circles around aimlessly, choosing to survey the devastation rather than finish off her enemies.

"Nothing quite like the sight of the powerful made helpless," Nina gloats with pride. Willow walks towards Nina, not ready to give up. She shoots bolts of energy out of her fingers. Nina just shivers and smiles as the bolts hit her body. The hair she took from Buffy is vaporized. "You are REALLY starting to turn me on!," Nina tells Willow with a flirtatious grin as she walks towards the witch. "If all the men in this town are as sorry as these guys, I might hafta give you a go." Willow's chanting, summoning all the power she can draw upon. Nina just laughs. She reaches out her right hand and grabs Willow's jaw, putting her index finger over Willow's lips. She can feel the power of Nina's grip, like she could crush Willow's jaw between her thumb and ring finger. Nina tilts Willow's head upwards so she can look Nina in the eyes. "Shhh," Nina tells her. "Your false gods can't save you from me."

To Nina's left Giles comes up and swings his ax for her right arm. Nina lets go of Willow and pulls her arm back out of the way. "But you can," she tells Giles. "By the way, I was only slagging the vampire and his little helper. You seem like a real man. Maybe a little vintage." A furious and desperate Giles swings for the murderous Nina's neck. She ducks. He swings for her chest. She lets the blade enter her body. When Giles pulls it out, it leaves no wound. Nina gets him in the head with a quick left hook kick. She rips the ax away with her left hand, grabs his shirt with her right and tosses him twenty-five feet through the air. He hits the ground near the Potentials. Everyone's in front of Nina now, except for Willow and Kennedy, who are behind her. Willow tries to wake Kennedy up.

"Sweetie, sweetie. Come on sweetie. Come on." Nina walks over to them and grabs Willow by her hair, dragging her away from Kennedy and towards Buffy. Willow's tapped out for the time being, and can't do any more ineffectual spells to delay and excite Nina.

"She'll live, sweetie.' I barely tapped her." Nina flings Willow by her hair into Buffy, who's managed to stand up and is trying to limp towards Nina. Willow crashes into Buffy, knocking both of them down and further hurting Buffy's ankle. Nina looks at them. "Never met mortals with that much pride. You two stink with hubris. I'm gonna like cutting you both down to size. Except, as you may have noticed, I'm more of a ripper." Nina walks back over to Kennedy, who regained consciousness as Willow was being dragged away. As she tries to get up, Nina pushes Kennedy back down with her right hand. Naturally, she's terrified. Nina hovers her left hand above Kennedy's chest. She looks out and sees Faith approaching, followed by Willow. Spike and Buffy have stood up, but neither can limp to Nina very quickly. Faith's the only one who stood a chance of occupying Nina's attention for five seconds. But she's not close enough to save Kennedy, if Nina really wants to finish her off. "I'll kill you later," Nina tells Kennedy before rising to her feet. "That's a promise." Nina stands over Kennedy and looks at Faith, who's six feet away.

"Don't pay any attention to the veteran," Nina tells Faith. "You're the one who matters." Then Nina turns around and slowly walks away, confident that no one will pursue her.

Connor hears a noise. He rushes out into the courtyard. Someone's just tossed a body in. Wesley and Gunn also go outside. "He won't get away with this tonight," Connor vows. Another corpse flies over the gate. This one crashes into the fountain, splashing Connor's face with water.

"We're coming with you," Wesley announces. Cordy and Fred stand in the doorway. Connor turns to talk to them.

"If he had a crew, sure. But you said Mal works alone. I'm the only one who stands a chance against this guy." Another body flies over the gate and hits Connor in the back, knocking him flat on his face and calling into question his championish posturing. Connor gets up, undeterred, and runs out to find Mal.

"Shouldn't we be helping him?," Fred asks.

"These corpses would argue against that," Wesley answers while looking the bodies over. "The head's nearly been bitten clean off this one. This other one's missing a right arm. And this last one's missing its heart, and apparently other parts of its chest as well."

"So this time it's the real deal," Gunn concludes. "Mal's callin' us out."

"Looks more like he's trying to keep us away," Cordelia dissents.

"Which means we should go after him." Gunn rebuts. "Maybe there's a reason he doesn't want us around."

"Too late for that," Fred says with resignation. Even if they tried to follow Connor, they couldn't keep up with him on foot. And in the time it would take them to get into Gunn's truck, Connor would have raced out of sight.

Connor follows Mal's scent. As well as the corpses. Over the course of a two mile pursuit, Mal found time to catch and kill four more victims. Mal made sure to mutilate them in ways that would get Connor's attention. The first was mauled and disemboweled. The second was scalped. The third had his nose and ears bit off. The fourth lacked knee caps and a head — Connor found these body parts spread out over the next few blocks. Five minutes after leaving the hotel, fleet-footed Connor catches up to Mal near the La Brea tar pits. As he takes a minute to catch his breath, Connor does a quick calculation in his head to figure out how fast Mal had to run to make these kills (they smelled too fresh to Connor to have been done in advance) and still keep several steps ahead of him. Mal patiently stands about one hundred yards away, waiting until Connor recovers fully from the pursuit.

"Never fight on an empty stomach," Mal jokes to Connor about his trail of slaughter. He's showing his human face. No reason to scare the boy. Connor walks towards him. "You think I'll tell you where your father is before you kill me?," Mal asks before bursting into laughter at this absurd notion.

"That's up to you," Connor replies with all sincerity.

"You're right. I can decide to let you beat me. Or, I could try. So one might say that the quality of your performance does not even matter." Connor takes a bottle of holy water out of his right pants pocket and throws it at Mal. The bottle shatters against his forehead, and the water drenches his face and hair. Mal wipes it away. Connor lands a right hook and a left roundhouse kick to Mal's face, knocking him backwards. Connor realizes that he only succeeded in getting Mal wet. That bothers him. But he doesn't let it distract him. Connor lands a straight right kick to Mal's chin. "The first three are free," Mal announces before landing a right jab-right hook combination. He blocks Connor's left cross and right hook before sending three right jabs into Connor's nose. "The rest are going to to cost you." Connor tries a right hook kick. Mal swerves his head to the left and avoids it. He starts dancing and circling, making Connor pursue him. Mal doesn't seem to be in a hurry.

"I can sense your parents inside you. All three of them." Connor charges in and throws a right hook. Mal dodges to the left, then throws Connor on his back. "You know you have two fathers. He believes he must always deny part of his nature. But you are not quite as weak as your father." Connor charges in and throws a left jab. Mal pushes him back. Connor attacks again and tries a cartwheel kick. Mal steps to the side and kicks Connor in the back, knocking his face into the grass. "The light and the dark, you feel them both, always, like a real man. Like me." Mal continues forcing Connor to take the offensive. He leaps at Mal and knocks him back with a right kick to the chest. Connor follows this up with a right cross. Mal lands two right jabs. Connor hits Mal in the mouth with a left jab and in the chin with a right uppercut. Mal answers with a left cross. Then, instead of throwing a right cross, he reaches his right arm towards Connor's chest and grabs his wooden cross, which was dangling from a string around the boy's neck. Mal steps back and ties the string behind his neck. He fingers the cross. Then he looks at the stunned Connor, who's seen a lot of things in his life, but never a vampire wearing a crucifix.

"Ex post facto. That was how they explained it when I first started pulling this trick." The two of them stand ten feet apart for five seconds as Connor tries to make sense of Mal's immunity. "Isn't it time for you to resume killing me?," Mal jokes. Connor charges in. Mal jumps high up into the air, avoiding the attack. Connor turns around leaps at Mal, trying to hit him in midair. They meet fifteen feet off the ground. Mal blocks Connor's kick and sends him tumbling head-over-heels back to earth. He lands on his feet and waits for Connor to get up. "Now your heart, that comes from your mother. It always does. Let me think. That would make you needy — no — desperate, for love." Connor doesn't like people talking smack about his mom, especially when those people are his vampire enemies. He throws a left hook, which Mal avoids, but hits the vampire with a right uppercut and a right hook kick to the stomach. Mal doesn't bother to try to block body blows. "Thirsting for someone to nurture you, satisfy you, dominate you. Make you beg and moan and scream until you pass out grinning ear-to-ear. Just like she was. Or, must have been. I am merely assuming," he adds with a devious smile. Connor comes at Mal, trying a left jab and a right roundhouse kick. Mal blocks both, then begins to go to work in earnest.

He nails Connor in the sternum with a right jab, then in the ribs with a left hook, a right uppercut to the stomach, another left hook to the ribs and a right hook kick to the other side of Connor's ribcage. Connor tries a right hook. Mal blocks it and adds left and right punches to Connor's abdomen. Mal knows the benefits of working the soft tissue. Connor connects with a left cross to Mal's right cheek. Mal pounds Connor's face with two consecutive left hooks. Connor staggers fifteen feet back but stays on his feet. Mal leaps at him and puts Connor on his back with a right kick to the chin. "Here's some advice. If you have found her, go to her. Because the two of you do not have much time left." Since his intention was to get Connor as pissed off as possible, Mal was hoping there was a special someone. He wanted the kid to try his best. And bringing Dawn into this was the last straw. Connor stood up, stared intensely and angrily at Mal, and decided to teach this vampire a lesson. Unfortunately, he was in way over his head. Mal blocks Connor's right roundhouse kick. When Connor tries a right hook, Mal grabs him and tosses Connor thirty feet through the air. Mal hops like a kangaroo and catches Connor before he hits the ground. Mal then pile drives Connor's head into the earth. When Connor gets up, Mal sweeps his legs out with his right foot. When Connor rises again, Mal does the same thing with his left foot. He isn't sure how much punishment Connor can take before expiring, and demoralizing Connor will hopefully cause him to give up before he had been beaten past the breaking point. When Connor gets up again, Mal sends his right foot into Connor's chest, then into his face. He adds a left kick to the chin which sends Connor airborne. Mal finishes off with a leaping left roundhouse kick that catches Connor while he's still in mid-air. Mal hopes the kid can take a hint.

Clearly, Mal doesn't know Connor. He gets up and nails Mal with a right hook. Mal is impressed by Connor's will. He decides to break that will with a left hook-right hook-left hook combination that brings Connor to his knees and sends his head spinning. For the first time in the fight, Mal goes bumpy. He pulls Connor up by his hair and leans in. His mouth is next to Connor's right ear while the tips of his fangs brush Connor's neck. "I will drink you dry, just like all the rest." Mal pulls his head back and returns to his human face. "But not today." Mal picks Connor up and hurls him sixty feet through the air. He watches Connor's body plunge into the tar. Mal chuckles and walks away. The night is young, and he is hungry for blood and notoriety. Connor can't swim. After splashing around a bit, Connor gets close enough to the edge to get his footing and walk out. He's covered head-to-toe in tar.

Angel's friends have no intention of following Connor's "orders." But they'll wait for him to return safely before they head out. They pass the time familiarizing themselves with the enemy by reading is file.

"For a supposedly first-class bad guy, this Mal has absolutely no sense of style. Where's the artistry?," Cordy wonders, unconsciously defending the lofty status of Angelus. She likes to believe that, whether good or evil, Angel's always the best.

"I thought the part where he takes the soldiers hostage and makes them fight their own buddies to the death was pretty tight," Gunn answers to some concerned looks. "But only in an evil way," he reassures them.

"Ah thought it was sorta wicked clever when he founded that orphanage for children who's parents he had killed," Fred confessed. "Especially when he set up an endowment to pay for its funding and named it after himself. Wicked meaning evil. Not cool. But ya'al already knew that, since it's pretty clear I ain't from Boston."

"I don't believe this!," Wesley exclaims. "But there are too many sources from too many places for me to discount it."

"Discount what?," Fred inquires.

"It appears that Mal had an intimate relationship with a Slayer."

"You mean he slept with her. A Slayer slept with a vampire. That surprises you?," Cordelia wonders with more than a little sarcasm.

"That doesn't make sense," Fred counters. "He was evil. He killed people. Unless he kidnapped her, which I wouldn't put beneath this guy."

"The tradition is extremely hostile to the Slayer, indicating that she chose to be with him," Wesley begins. "I've heard this story, this legend, actually. It's usually presented as a Faustian bargain. Mal's name is changed, but, oddly enough, not the Slayer's."

"Enough deconstruction. What's the story?," Fred demands.

"In the mid-fifth century there was a Slayer named Candace, from Axum. Evidently Mal was quite taken with her. It's not clear how he wooed her, or how long it took, but she eventually left her Watcher and went off with Mal."

"Who better to teach her how to dust vamps?," Gunn points out.

"I'm sure that was a large part of it. No doubt he trained her and taught her everything he could. They were together for nine years. During that time they traversed the known civilized world, from Spain to Egypt to India to China, killing demons and possibly averting an apocalypse on more than one occasion. Candace was rumored to have killed upwards of ten thousand vampires. More than any other Slayer, by a long shot. Mal presumably slayed an equal amount himself."

"That sounds a little exaggerated to me," Cordy asserts.

"That's only about three a night," Fred points out. "Doesn't sound like too much for a Slayer. But why would Mal work for the good guys?"

"Simple. More bodies for him," Gunn replies.

"Precisely," Wesley adds. "Mal is the sort of egotist who would probably relish the idea of being the only vampire on earth. And from what we know of vampire demographics, he nearly succeeded. As for saving the world once or twice, I'm sure Mal did not want to lose his favorite playground."

"Demographics? What, they took a vampire census?," Cordy wonders.

"It is generally assumed that the maximum long-term sustainable vampire population over a large area is one vampire for every ten thousand humans. At that time, there were approximately three hundred million humans on earth — enough to support thirty thousand vampires. When you realize that five thousand of them would have been in the Americas, it becomes apparent that Mal and Candace slayed between eighty and ninety percent of the Old World's vampires. Which might explain the drop-off in reports of vampire activity during the early medieval period."

"What happened after nine years?," Cordy asks. "Did they break up? Did he kill her?"

"The Council killed her," Wesley answers. "In their minds, Candace was a renegade. A rogue Slayer who chose to share her bed with a vicious killer. We know what Mal can do. He probably killed dozens of innocent people every night. For whatever reason, she chose to look the other way."

"Maybe she thought she was serving the greater good," Gunn proposes. "He was offing his own kind."

"Or she had the hots for a soulless dead guy. It's been known to happen," Cordy points out none-too-cattily.

"Sounds like those Council people were jealous that she was getting the job done better than they could," Gunn adds.

"Undoubtedly that was a large part of it," Wesley concedes.

"I'm guessin' Mal wasn't too happy with 'em," Fred mentions.

"He appears to have retaliated by killing them all quite painfully. There's a gap in the Council records between roughly the Fall of Rome and the reign of Justinian. The common assumption was that this was due to the political turmoil. But it's conceivable that it took the organization several decades to fully recover from Mal's purge."

"Did he love her?," Cordelia wonders. "It seems odd that a vampire would take it so hard if he didn't. Especially one without a soul."

"Obviously Mal's the only one who know that answer. There were some Isis-Osiris idols from that period which are thought to be based on the two of them. Small carvings of Candace served as protective talismans for centuries. That was one of the reasons it was always assumed she was a myth."

"You mean like little dolls?," Gunn asks. "Black girl with an itty-bitty stake in her hand?"

"From this illustration, it would appear so."

"Let me see that." Gunn walks over to Wes and looks at the page. "That's the black Slayer! I bought one of these for my sister at a swap meet in Long Beach. Gave to her for her fifteenth birthday." Connor enters the hotel. Except for around his eyes, nose and mouth, he's completely covered in tar. "Speakin' of black Slayers. What the hell happened to you?" Connor just walks upstairs without saying a word.

"At least he came back alive. And in one piece," Fred points out.

"And in no condition to even think of stopping us," Gunn declares as he walks over to the weapons case. "I say we suit up and ride."

NEXT: As his friends go vampire hunting, and Mal turns his attention elsewhere, Angel begins to fight his way home.


	23. Leaders

Nina stands on a hill overlooking the gleaming lights of Las Vegas. She smiles and begins to walk toward the casinos. "You're wouldn't be trying to stand me up?," Buffy asks. Nina turns and sees her.

"You know how much I hate it when you dress like my target." The First assumes the form of Glory.

"How you like me now?" Nina looks her over and walks towards Glory. "You have no idea how good if feels to lose this useless, meat sack of a body. Hunger, weakness, pain – life for them isn't living. It's one, long, slow agonizing death."

"We just met, and already you're getting on my nerves. You're trying for edgy, but they got you stuck on annoying."

"Right. I'm the bitch in this conversation. Who's the one who just ripped a girl's heart out and laughed about it in front of her friends?"

"They were arrogant. Especially the blonde and the redhead. I have to put them in their place. If they're smart, it won't take them long to realize the girls die only to punish them."

"Killing their friends and loved ones in front of them, that's a good strategy. Don't kidnap one of the girls and then wait a long time before you try to off her in public. Trust me, that'll just backfire."

"You mean a ritual killing?," Nina asks with a chuckle. "A sacrifice? Do I look like some brainless God-worshipping maggot?" Glory gives her one of her wicked smiles.

"You really have no idea who I am."

"We haven't met."

"Oh yes we have. I looked a little different back then." Nina thinks for a few seconds. She noticed how Glory got mad when she disparaged gods. She decides to work that angle.

"But you know who's even stupider than a priest? The god he worships! They're like senile people with divine powers. That's why all the dimensions are so screwed up. The gods really are crazy. Or are they just dolts? Cause crazy people can also sometimes be brilliant. But I have NEVER heard of a brilliant god. Or even a smart god. If gods were people, they would have to be waited on like invalids. Drooling, babbling babies who have to be told how great they are every five minutes. Like incontinent, illiterate, ignorant infants. Any one dumb enough to worship something that pathetic doesn't deserve to live in ANY dimension. Wouldn't you agree?" Nina can see that Glory is about to blow her top.

"Have you forgotten why I'm the master and you're the slave?"

"Is that really you? The attitude's familiar. But the look. It's less than I would have imagined. Granted, not being hotter than me is to be expected. Who is? But you, you have got to be disappointed. You're not even as pretty as that blonde Slayer. Talk about an insult to your dignity."

"You're just saying that because you hate me. Buffy, hotter than ME? Please!"

"It's definitely a toss-up. Which is an absolute disgrace. Ya think they coulda done better for the likes of you."

"You smartass little peon! You think I'll let you get away with saying things like that to ME? I own you. You exist only to serve me. So get that through your thick, misshapen skull and that ugly die-job hair that covers it."

"I can't work under these conditions. You know what I like. Stop testing my patience."

"Is this what you like?," the First asks Nina after it takes the form of Darla. She's wearing her Catholic schoolgirl outfit. Nina walks around Darla and sizes her up.

"Not bad. Nice smile. Powerful yet playful. Good sense of humor. I can see all of that in your cute, scheming little face. This is someone I can hang with. But you need some work." Darla looks insulted. "Don't pout. Nothing's wrong with you. Just your packaging. These leggings have to go." Nina waves her right hand, and Darla's legs are bare. "That's better. Now lose this," Nina commands as she unbuttons and removes Darla's sweater. "More like it. More like the real you. Just a few more things." Nina unbuttons the top three buttons on Darla's white shirt. "And, finally, we give your hair a little life." She teases it out a bit so it's more natural-looking. Then Nina steps back. "I think I've found the real you." Darla walks over to Nina.

"There's a reason you're the only one who gets to touch me." Nina puts her right hand to Darla's left cheek for a few seconds. "These hands can do such wonderful things to my enemies."

"You liked my performance?," Nina asks hopefully. Darla looks a little disappointed.

"The moves were, well, good. But you did them to the wrong people. Why waste those wonderful hands on a powerless girl? That should have been Buffy's heart you held."

"Buffy. The blonde one?"

"Did anyone else there look like a Buffy?"

"But she's the audience. You don't kill the audience. Certainly not during the first act."

"Buffy is not a spectator. She's the star. Next to you, of course."

"But she's not the essential variable. She's not the one I need."

"Buffy is the only one who can stop you. That's what she always is. As long as she is alive, you are in danger."

"I'm confused. If she's as strong as you say she is, how could I kill her as easily as you want me to? That makes no sense."

"Because she gets better. The longer you wait, the harder it will be to kill her."

"And the more fun she'll be to fight. Right now, she's not much tougher than a rag doll. I would love it if she'd make me work, make me try. Oh, that would be fun."

"This isn't a game," Darla reminds Nina.

"Of course it is. And I never lose. See ya round. I'll think we'll have some good times together. Wish you were real. We could really set a town like this on fire. Drive all the men crazy."

Darla smiles. "You have no idea."

A police car cruises down an avenue in east Los Angeles. Out of nowhere, a man leaps in their path. The driver slams on the brakes, but it's too late. The car hits the man, and he rolls over the windshield and hood, landing behind the car. The two officers are understandably alarmed and worried. The one in the front passenger's seat gets out of the car. He looks behind the vehicle and finds nothing.

"Nice to know you really do care," Mal announces as he grabs the cop from behind and bites his neck. The man gasps and tries to yell, but the blood loss is too quick. Sitting in the driver's seat, his partner watches what transpires through the passenger's side rear-view mirror. He doesn't understand why his partner collapsed all alone. The cop gets out and begins to rush behind the vehicle. But Mal blocks his path. Having never seen a vampire before, he is extremely alarmed. Then again, Mal's appearance is alarming to people who have. "For the record, it ain't a racial thing," Mal tells him before sinking his teeth in. When he's finished, Mal takes the cop's car keys, gets it, shuts off the police radio and drives off with the siren blaring.

Taking Gunn's truck would have meant that two of them would have to ride in the flatbed, which would look suspicious, even if they weren't carrying weapons. So they take Cordy's suv. Gunn drives, with Wes sitting next to him and Fred and Cordy in back. Wesley spots some suspicious activity in an alley too their right. Gunn makes a quick turn and races down the cul-de-sac with his high beams on. Five vampires turn tail and run. Fred sticks her head out of the sun roof and fires, hitting a quickly moving vampire in the back two inches away from his heart. Two vampires scale the emergency exits on the apartment to the left, and two others do the same on the apartment to the right. Wesley pulls down his window and fires at one of the vamps to the right, but he's climbing so fast that he only hits the lower back. The vampire Fred hit is straight ahead. Gunn gets tries to run him down. The vampire manages to scale the wall of the building at the back of the alley. Gunn slams on the brakes. The four of them get out. But the vampires are gone.

"Damn!," Gunn exclaims. "That's the third time tonight."

"And every time there's five of them," Wes points out.

"Either we're a lot tougher than we think, or the vampires around here have gone chicken," Cordelia proposes.

"Or they got new marching orders," Gunn concludes.

"Mal's told 'em to run?," Fred asks.

"Or he told them not to engage," Wesley offers.

"Same thing," Cordelia responds. "They'd rather save their own skin than sink their teeth into ours. That's so frustrating." The four of them get back into the car. Gunn puts it in reverse and backs out of the alley.

"So where's Mal?," Winifred wonders.

Mal knew that his siren would make other cars get out of the way. And he quickly learned that the lights automatically went green for him. These were the sorts of things he expected. But as Mal raced around town, he discovered something quite wonderful. If, instead of passing someone, he merely drove right behind them, they would pull over to the shoulder and wait patiently for him to walk up to them. Naturally, when they saw that he was wearing blue jeans and a brown turtleneck instead of a uniform, they would get alarmed. But by that point they only had seconds more to live. Instant meals on demand – it was almost too good to be true. Mal pulled over three cars, all of them with multiple occupants. No point stopping for a single victim. Of course, he couldn't keep this up for long without getting noticed. But Mal was hoping for this. He wanted to get in a chase with four or five cop cars - the more the merrier. But he was first tailed by a single car. When Mal failed to answer their radio messages, they gave chase. Mal pulls off the 101 and travels down an empty street near the port. The officers open fire, shattering the rear window and puncturing both rear tires. Mal slows down and pulls over to the side. He shuts off the car and calmy waits for the cops, like a guy pulled over for speeding.

The cops draw their weapons and stand on either side of Mal, yelling for him to put his hands up and step out of the car. Mal pushes his feet against the floor and spins his body so that his back smashes through the front windshield. He rolls off the hood and stands up, holding his hands over his head and smiling. The officers tell him to get down on the ground. Mal goes bumpy. This buys him a second or two while the cops are too stunned to fire. Mal leaps over the cop to his left, does a mid-air forward flip and grabs the man's head while he's upside-down and above the cop. He snaps the fellow's neck and lands on his feet while the man's dead body is falling to the pavement. The other officer fires and runs to Mal. The vampire jumps over the hood and lands on the opposite side of the car. Then Mal hops onto the roof so he's standing above the cop. He points his gun, but Mal kicks it out of his hands and jumps down to the street. The officer bends down to grab the backup weapon he has above his right ankle. Before he can do that, Mal leaps on top of him and feeds. When he's done, Mal strolls away.

"This town won't be quite so boring once I'm done with it."

An hour-and-half after leaving, the gang heads home empty-handed. A few blocks from the hotel, they spot a vampire on the street and give chase. Wes and Cordy point crossbows at the vampire, who screams "Get down! Get down!" before leaping to his left and hiding behind a dumpster. Gunn sees four vampires in front of him snacking on two humans. They drop the people and run to the end of the block, where they turn right and jump down into a manhole one-by-one. Wesley steps out to give chase but can't catch them. He looks over the scene for a few seconds before returning to the car.

"They must have removed that manhole cover in advance," he concludes. Gunn drives back. The fifth vampires appears to have disappeared. Fred and Cordy get out and help the man and woman who have been bitten. The man appears to have lost the most blood, though both of them are too weak to walk away. Cordy calls an ambulance. When it's arrived, the gang returns to the hotel. Lorne is in the lobby.

"Where were you tonight while we were running in circles?," Cordelia pointedly asks.

"Chatting up the demon bars. Ironically, they think Mal's working for Angel. Even worse, they say they fear Mal a lot more than they ever feared Angel. If there's one thing worse than losing your boss and best friend, it's listening to his enemies say I wish it was Angel trying to kill us.'"

"They're just lying to hurt your feelings," Cordelia responds.

"When's Mal findin' the time to kill demons?," Fred asks.

"He doesn't stalk. He ain't got no friends. Guy's probably got loads of time to kill," Gunn surmises.

"What sort of demons is he going after?," Wesley asks Lorne.

"He seems to be starting with the biggest, then working his way down."

"That figures," Wesley concludes.

"So if Mal's spendin' all his time here, what's he got Angel doin'?, Fred wonders.

Angel stood in the arena, his sword in his right hand. He had finally killed all ten of the demons. It was far from easy, and it didn't come without a price, but they were dead. And Mal was nowhere in sight. Angel slowly walks to the wall. He wants to run, but is too exhausted and injured. Angel scales the wall and jumps ten feet down to the ground outside. It's a spare landscape dotted by scrawny, angular trees. In the distance is an enormous castle, 500 feet wide and eighty feet high, with four towers extending 160 feet into the air. After a half-hour of walking, Angel has arrived and can get a good look at the edifice. He also gets a good look at the gorge which encircles the castle. It is forty feet across and sixty feet deep from Angel's side. The ground on the castle side of the moat is twenty feet above where Angel stands. Angel jumps to the bottom of the gorge, puts the sword on his belt, and begins to climb up the jagged rock. When he gets sixty feet up, Angel realizes that the top twenty feet have been polished smooth. He moves side-to-side, but the polishing appears to be all the way around. It's too uniform to be natural. But the amount of work needed to polish and grind down a quarter mile-long, twenty foot high strip of rock from inside a gorge would have been enormous. Then again, building the damn castle entailed an enormous amount of labor in and of itself. Angel takes his sword in his right hand and uses the point to cut footholes and handholes in the rock, then climbs up a few feet to continue the process. It's slow work, but after twenty minutes Angel has made it to the top. His shoulders are burning, and it feels like his arms and feet are about to fall off. Now would be a very bad time for a demon attack.

Fortunately, none is in the offing. After a few minutes of rest, Angel gets up and approaches the castle. It is four stories high. The architecture looks to Angel to be a mix of Egyptian and Babylonian monumental. The walls are made of large blocks of cut stone. The whole thing wreaks of prestige. Clearly it's Mal's way of advertising his power and importance to any demons who might walk by. Angel approaches a large wooden door. After driving his shoulder into it three times, the six-inch-thick door opens a crack. Angel pushes it the rest of the way open and enters an entrance hall that is 100 feet long, fifty feet wide and thirty feet high. He's rather stunned by the grand hall, which has mosaics on the floor and giant carved fireplaces along both sides, as well as giant murals on the walls at either end. He's impressed by the urns flanking the fireplaces and the vases on stone-topped hardwood tables. Coming from all corners of the globe, and probably a few from other globes, the only things they have in common are that they are priceless and extremely ancient. Angel had assumed that as a status symbol, the house was meant to be viewed with awe from the outside. He didn't expect the inside to be so well-appointed. Angel found himself oddly impressed, even envious. The art, the decorations, the grand spaces – these were the things Angel appreciated most in a house. It was unsettling to discover that the seemingly invincible vampire who was torturing you and attacking the people you love also had aesthetic tastes at least as refined as your own.

Angel walks through a few more grandly appointed rooms before finding a staircase. He was looking either for secret passageways or for books which Mal used to figure out how to teleport into various dimensions. The staircase only led downwards, so that's where Angel went. He passes by dungeons filled with vicious demons imprisoned by stone walls and thick iron bars. They reach out and try to grab Angel. He stays near the middle of the pathway, out of their range. Then Angel walks by lighter, less imposing cages which hold cattle, elephants, water buffalo and a few mammal-like creatures that didn't appear to be from earth. They must be Mal's blood reserve. Angel is still full from the blood Mal fed him, so he doesn't feel the need to reach inside one of the cages and grab a quick meal. After passing through several storerooms, Angel ends up in something he didn't expect to see in an otherworldly palace – a movie theater. Strewn on the floor in front of the twenty five foot-wide screen are couches, futons, chairs and cushions. In back, above the entrance and just in front of the projection room, is a balcony. Stacked along the wall to Angel's left is a film library that appears to contain at least one thousand movies. The reels are stored behind a wall of glass. Angel walks toward the exit door underneath the screen. Unfortunately, the door happens to be a portal. When Angel opens it, he gets sucked into an entirely new dimension. One that is teeming with demons.

It took a while, but Connor finally scrubbed off all the tar. He'll worry about all the dirty towels and the clogged shower drain sometime later. For now he goes into his room, gets dressed and dials up Dawny. She's alone in her room. Buffy and company have yet to return from their disastrous encounter with Nina. She picks up her cell phone. "Hello?"

"It's good to hear your voice," Connor tells her.

"Thanks. Same for you. Is something wrong?"

"Why would you say that?"

"You sound depressed. Rough night?"

"Yeah. You know, that happens. How was your day? How was school?" Connor obviously wanted to get his mind off of Mal.

"Crazy. Hellmouth acted up. Me and Kit left early. She sort of figured out what was up pretty quick."

"Were there demons?"

"No. Just people trying to hurt each other. And some pigs. But, mostly people acting like they were possessed by evil spirits."

"Everyone's okay, right?"

"Not Vice-Principal Mooney. But Eli and Carlos and everyone else you know got out okay."

"That's good. Sometimes I miss Sunnydale. Mostly cause you're there, and I miss you. But, you know, there are your friends, and it was fun hanging out with them. I mean, basically, things just seemed simpler there."

"Yeah," Dawn responds, a little confused by Connor's Hellmouth nostalgia. "Simple in the sense that you can pretty much expect to fight something big and powerful and evil just about every night. It's consistent all right. Consistently perilous."

"But it's small. So the bad guys are easy to find. You fight them, read about them, kill them, then it's over."

"What's wrong, Connor? Tell me what's bothering you."

"I miss you, Dawn."

"It's more than that."

"I dunno. Things here are complicated. You don't always know if you're doing the right thing. And it's like I got all these responsibilities, with the business and my dad's friends and, everything."

"So you're confused. You have doubts. Big deal. Everyone has doubts. You think Buffy never second-guesses anything?"

"I'd like to turn out better than her. No offense but, you know, I wanna be happy."

"Okay, maybe she's the wrong example for you," Dawn concedes, knowing that Connor does not hold Buffy in the highest esteem. "I know there's something you're not telling me. Maybe you're facing a tough new demon who's got everyone feeling scared and helpless."

"I'm okay. Really," Connor fibs.

"Connor, you can't fool me."

"I would never try to lie to you."

"It's not a lying. You're just holding back. Which is, understandable. You don't want me to worry about you. I'm the same way. I don't want you worrying about me. You have enough to deal with on your own."

"Should I worry?," Connor asks. "Because if you're in any danger - "

"I'm not. You know how it is round here. Bad guys don't even bother to look my way."

"Because they're scared of you."

"Thanks, Connor. But what about not lying?," Dawn asks with a laugh.

"No lie. You're tough."

"Oh. So you're just deluding yourself. But in a sweet way. My point was, whatever's got you down, I know you'll take care of it. You'll win. You're too strong and too brave and too smart not to."

"Smart? What happened to not lying?," Connor asks with a smirk.

"Come on. You know you're not a dummy."

"Sure. But I'm not as smart as you."

"So? I'm nowhere near as tough as you."

"If you say so. "Glad I called."

"Me too. Whatever it is Connor, don't worry. You and your dad will defeat it."

"If we get the chance," Connor ruefully adds, honestly unsure if Angel will return in time, or at all. They hang up. Dawn's more worried than she was letting on. However, once Buffy comes back, she'll have something far closer to home to worry about. Connor heads downstairs in gray sweatpants and a black tank top. The gang returned a few minutes earlier, so Connor is unaware of their uneventful patrol. He's bruised and limping.

"Nice to see you all cleaned up," Cordy points out. She walks up to him and looks at his injuries. Getting severely pounded two nights in a row is taxing Connor's healing abilities. But Cordelia won't bring that up until the next time he vows to protect the Angel-less City of Angels from Mal. She does notice something else. "You still got some gunk behind your ears. And a little on your neck." Connor feels like he's getting the little kid treatment, which he greatly resents.

"Wanna check if I missed any other places?," Connor responds with an petulant smirk, zinging Cordy for her past attempts to be both mother and lover to him. Cordelia is sorely tempted to slap the obnoxious little bastard, but decides he's been hit enough. She just walks away. The others can tell that Connor is in a very bad mood, meaning they should tread even lighter than usual.

"Don't let old Mal get you down," Fred says with a smile. Connor senses the condescension, though he can tell she's at least trying to be nice. "There aren't many people who could say they faced him down twice and walked away in one piece." The "one piece" remark reminds Gunn and Wes of the bodies Mal ripped apart with his teeth.

"Are we sure he's a vampire?," Connor asks, stunning everybody.

"Certainly, Mal is more powerful than just about any other vampire around," Wesley begins. "But he drinks blood, doesn't age and avoids sun light like any other vampire."

"Do other vampires wear crosses?"

"He did what?," a flabbergasted Gunn asks back. The other three are also wide-eyed and curious.

"He took my cross and hung it around his neck. It was against his chest. His sweater, at least. But he, he touched it with his hands. And nothing happened. Just like nothing happened when I threw holy water on him."

Wesley tries to concoct an explanation. "Reactions to religious symbols are thought to be at least partly psycho-somatic. The vampire is injured by the crucifix because he fears what it represents. Perhaps Mal willed himself past that fear through hypnosis or meditation."

"He said Ex post facto.' He said that's why he could do it. Is that a spell?"

"After the fact," Fred translates, trying to figure out its meaning. Wesley beats her to the answer by a second or two.

"Mal was a vampire long before the time of Jesus. Perhaps if the symbols didn't exist when the vampire was sired, they can't hurt him. We've just never realized that because we've never encountered a vampire more than 2,000 years old."

"So he grandfather's his way out of the one way we could hurt him?," Gunn notes with resignation. "That mean we gotta find some symbols from way, way back in the day?"

"I'm not sure what the Egyptians or the Sumerians used to ward off vampires," Wesley answers.

"Who cares?," Cordy interjects. "We can't kill him with any of these god-fearing tchochkes. What worried me was when my crossbow arrow bounced off his chest."

"He bones are extra hard," Connor notes. He has the bruised knuckles to prove it. "And you fired from a distance. Stake. Sword. Fire. Up close. That's the only way we dust him."

"Long as he can't ex post facto his way outta those, I ain't worried," Gunn comments. "This guy ain't invincible. He's just stronger and smarter than the average vamp."

"A LOT stronger and smarter," Fred clarifies.

"But not stronger or smarter than all of us put together," Charles responds.

"You mean us with Angel," Cordelia amends.

"No," Gunn objects. "I mean, yes. With Angel. But also without him. We have to step up and be the leaders. If Mal can get the vamps working for him, why can't we team up with other demon fighters? Damn straight I'd rather have Angel than twenty other demon fighters any day of the week. But havin' them is better than nothing. Let's face it. We need an army, and we need one fast."

Fred and Cordy aren't enthusiastic, in part because they believe Angel's indispensable, and in part because they don't know many other demon fighters. Connor naturally hates the idea. But Wesley is sympathetic. He understands the instinct to prove you can get the job done on your own, without Angel. However, he does have reservations.

"Mal has confronted armies before."

"Normal armies. The kinds that are trained to kill humans. Not armies of demon fighters."

"Point taken. What tactics would you use against an adversary like Mal? A simple envelopment, or would you feign retreat with part of your forces to lure him into a trap?

"Mal's too fast for that. Unless you mean real traps: nets, bear traps, land mines." That last one peaked Wesley's interest.

"I know someone who could get us those on very short notice. Or, we could make them ourselves. The problem would be concealing the bombs from Mal."

"How bout disguising them to look like junk you'd normally find on a street?"

"Would you use remote detonation?"

"Hadn't thoughta that. But it's worth considering." Gunn and Wes walk off, eagerly brainstorming and analyzing. Fred and Cordy don't quite know what to make of this.

"At least they're gettin' along," Fred points out with a shrug.

"They won't think of anything Mal hasn't seen before," Connor begins disparagingly. He knows something about being both predator and prey in a hostile world. "If they're too strong, he'll run away and hide. When they split up, he'll attack. We have to give him something he's never faced before. He's beaten Slayers. He's killed demon fighters. He's killed vampires. But he came here to fight something new."

"You?," Cordy asks, worrying that Connor's suffering from delusions of grandeur.

"And Angel," Connor responds. "The two of us. We're the only thing that could kill him. Without both of us, this town's screwed." Connor heads back upstairs.

"At least he misses his dad," Cordy points out. "Though he is going a bit overboard with this Chosen One stuff. The last thing we need around here is a Slayer in drag."

Mal wants a big score. Something that will get the attention of all the right people. A car with two men in it stops at a red light on an empty street. Mal shatters the glass and pulls out the driver. The man in the passenger's seat gets out and points a nine millimeter at Mal, who shields himself with the body of the terrified driver. He goes bumpy and sinks his fangs into the unfortunate man's neck, sucking out his blood while his friend watches. The friend turns and runs. When Mal has finished draining his victim, he gives chase. The chase doesn't take long. The fleeing guy fires three shots, not of which strike Mal. He tackles the poor fellow before he even sees Mal. The vampire then tosses the guy into a wall and puts his right hand around his neck.

"Where is your boss?"

"My what? Man, you trippin." Mal drives his left fist into the young man's right shoulder, separating it. He cries out in pain. Mal worries that he's too in shock to provide any useful information. So he steps back for a minute and allows the guy to catch his breath. He also goes back to his human face.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to hurt you. But you would not cooperate. It also not my intention to kill you. However, if you fail to tell me what I need to know, then I may have no choice. Which would be very bad. For both of us. Let's work together. Tell me where I can find the man who runs your organization. Your gang leader."

"Then I'm still a dead man."

"But you'll have a fighting chance. Something you don't have with me. Tell me what I need to know."

"You came after the wrong guy. I don't know nothin'." Mal goes bumpy again and leans in to bite the man. "Wait, wait. Hold on. I mean he moves around."

"So do I." Mal breaks his left arm. The man groans and yelps in pain. "Give me one. If he is not there, I will break another bone, and you will give me another location. You have about two hundred more bones could break." Mal picks the guy up and carries him back to the car, which Mal will drive to his headquarters. "We'll talk on the way."

The theater is more crowded and buzzing with more energy than before. Mal checks the new names on the roster and looks over the vampires. Then he grabs Lou and prepares to head out. But first, he leaves them with instructions. "Nobody touches the hostage. I will kill anyone who tries to bite him. If we succeed, Lou calls, and you take him straight to the hospital. If I find out that anyone has disobeyed these orders, I will see to it that every one of you dies. If you do not think that you can follow orders, please leave right now. I don't ask for much. Only that."

Mal heads out with Lou. The vampires don't quite understand why they have to help the hostage even when he's no longer needed. But they're willing to abide by his methods as long as he keeps killing their enemies. However, they can't yet grasp why he's going after criminal gangs who've never done a thing to vampires. But that will become apparent soon enough.

Lou drives Mal over to the strip club that the gang leader usually works out of on Monday nights. Mal takes a walk through the place, giving the strippers large amounts of the cash that he's taken from his victims. He hasn't yet figured out what things cost in Los Angeles, and doesn't know that it's unheard of for a man to give a stripper one hundred dollars without even asking for so much as a lap dance. But Mal's more interested in checking out the audience. He sees a man with a cell phone flanked by two other men who are talking to him. Sitting "inconspicuously around the club are six large men who look like bodyguards. Mal thinks he's found his target. He gives the bartender a twenty without even ordering a drink and slips forty to the bouncer before walking outside. Then he goes to work.

Mal overturns three Escalades and two Humvees parked outside the establishment. The people inside hear the racket, and the six bodyguards go outside to investigate. They're shocked and baffled by what the see. Lou, who's perched on the roof of a grocery store across the street, presses play on a boombox. The sound of rapid gunfire pours out of the speakers. The six men hit the deck, pull out their guns and look for the shooters. Inside, the people can hear the gunfire. The music stops. The dancers panic. The leader stands up and asks one of his assistants to check on what's going on.

After Lou pressed play, Mal took advantage of the bodyguards' distraction to climb onto the roof of the club. He rips open an emergency fire exit and ducks down into the club, just as Buffy did at the Bronze during the Harvest. Except Mal's carrying much bigger weapons. Before walking into the club, Mal had stored his bow and two arrows by the trap door. He grabbed them just before going down into the club. Mal hangs upside-down from the rafters and fires. The arrow pierces the man's chest and drives him back down, pinning him to the couch he was sitting on a few seconds earlier. The man to the leader's right fires up in the air. Mal swings up so he's parallel to the floor, reloads, swings back upside-down and fires his second arrow at his not-quite-dead-yet target. This shot goes straight through the leader's left eye, out the back of his head and lodges itself halfway into the front wall forty feet behind the man. Mal tosses his bow up through the trap door, then swings down and lands on stage amidst the pandemonium he has created. The spotlight catches him in all his vampiric glory, causing even more screaming and panic. The leader's right hand man fires two shots from twenty five feet away. Mal leaps up, does a flip and lands behind the guy. When the perplexed and now terrified man turns around, Mal kicks the gun out of his hand. When he reaches for another, Mal grabs hold of him and leaps up to the balcony. By now, the bodyguards have heard the mayhem and rushed back inside, only to find their boss shot with – of all things – an arrow.

They can't find the "shooter," since he's on the floor of the balcony, drinking the leader's crony dry and giving him a thorough mauling. Mal takes hold of the spotlight and shines it on the bodyguards and the one remaining crony on the floor. Then he tosses what's left of his victim down to them. His throat has been ripped out, and his chest has been ripped open. They all fire into the balcony. By now, Mal has eluded the hail of bullets and is climbing along the rafters. He heads up through the trap door, closes it, grabs his bow and jumps down to the street just in time to stop Lou from feasting on the fleeing patrons.

"No overkill," Mal explains. "We don't want them to think we are playing favorites." Lou, who does know why Mal is going after the gangs, understands. They drive off. "Now let's go find you another massacre," Mal suggests to Lou's delight.

NEXT: Nina sits down to have a chat with Buffy. Angel fights his way through one of Mal's demon colonies. Connor goes dark. And Wes and Gunn go solo.


	24. Mal Makes Strange Bedfellows

Mal gets involved with one of Angel's super-human female friends. Dawn's friends find Giles hot and Spike cold. Angel's friends decide to crash Mal's pad. Plus, Mal liberates Sahjhan, and is pleasantly surprised to learn they have something in common.

On Tuesday morning, Mal finds himself at a Palm Springs spa. Six Oden Tal females lie in pools of ice along the back of the room. Strewn on the floor are twelve zealously-mutilated male Vigaries who came to reclaim the women and "tame" them. The attendant makes sure the women are all right, then runs out of the room, terrified by Mal. Tyah does not know what to make of the vampire. He's intrigued by the super-powered Chinese-looking woman with the scales on the back of her neck.

"Someone will have to clean up this mess," she jokes to him about the entrails on the floor.

"If that is your worst problem, you are quite fortunate."

"Did he send you?"

"Who is he?"

"That other vampire. The good one." Mal laughs.

"Sorry baby. I'm not good. Just great."

"Why are you here?"

"I like killing. It was a slow morning, and I was bored. Then I heard of demons arriving in Los Angeles and setting up a colony out here. The demons need to learn to stay in their own worlds."

"These men are not demons."

"Yes they are. But yourself, and these women, you are all humans. They should be the slaves, and you should be the masters. When I have a chance, I will head to your world, free the women, crush the demon men, and bring in human men who are worthy of you. Then you will no longer need to hide in this world."

"What kind of men do you have in mind? Men like yourself? Men like Angel?" Mal chuckles.

"Like him. There are plenty of decent men like him. However, there is no man like me anywhere in the universe."

Tyah has trouble figuring out Mal's motivation. She can tell he isn't good. And yet he didn't attempt to hurt the beautiful, defenseless women. "Why do you fight?"

"Because I like nothing better."

"And yet you demand money."

"I would be a slave if I did not."

"No. You would be a hero." Mal doesn't take kindly to this insult. He fears that he hasn't established his prowess.

"Sixty thousand. Ten per woman. Surely you believe their free will is worth far more than that."

"You chose to fight. I did not send for you. I owe you nothing, vampire."

"You owe me your life. Or, you will." Mal grabs Tyah and throws her face-first into one of the concrete columns. She smiles. Poor vampire doesn't know what he's gotten himself into. Mal lands a right jab. Tyah puts her right hand to Mal's chest and pushes him fifteen feet back and onto the ground. He smiles as he vaults to his feet. This was going to be more fun than he expected. Mal tries a leaping right kick. Tyah moves to her left and eludes the blow. Mal lands his feet on the ground, spins and sweeps out her legs with his left foot. He puts his right hand on her chest, holding her down, and goes bumpy. She grabs his right forearm, pushes him ten feet back and stands up. Tyah charges, but Mal leaps over her. They close and size each other up. Mal decides her power's in her hands. So he grabs them. Their fingers interlace. Both fighters squeeze down, trying to crush the other's bones. Mal holds his ground, but only with great effort. Since her body is unprotected, Mal leans in and bites the right side of her neck. Tyah's never been bitten before, so this is quite frightening. She cries out. Mal gets his giant fangs in nice and deep before her starts drinking. Tyah cries out louder, summons all her strength and pushes Mal thirty feet across the room. He lands next to one of the girls in an ice bath, his right arm less than a foot from direct sunlight. Mal quickly stands up and moves away from the windows. Tyah is shaken by the bite. Mal notices that his little test of strength with Tyah had left his palms red-hot and smoldering. Also, her blood didn't go down that well. Mal grimaces as he goes back to his human face. Then Mal rolls his eyes and manages a sublime grin. It's so rare at his advanced age to experience something new.

"Your blood boils. It scalded the lining of my throat on the way down. Like curry, or gumbo, but filled with the vitality of human life." Mal slowly walks towards Tyah, who's a little frightened by this strange creature. "I would love to drain you, slowly, over the course of an entire day. Coming back every few hours for another taste. Sinking my teeth into your neck, arms, thighs, back, stomach. But I would love it even more if you were alive, and at full strength. Something you are not at right now." Tyah shoots her right hand to his chest. Mal grabs her right wrist with his left hand and twists her arm back as he lands three right jabs to her face. She tries a straight left kick and a right roundhouse kick, both of which be blocks. Mal responds with a right hook kick and a left roundhouse to her chest, then adds a right hook to her ribs and a left hook to her face. That last blow puts Tyah on her back. Mal reaches his right hand down and helps her up. She grabs her neck wound.

"Sixty," he demands.

"Cash?," she asks.

"What else is there? They don't seem to like gold too much around here." Tyah turns around and starts to walk away. Mal stops her, grabs her right hand and kisses it. "It was an honor."

"Sure. Thanks," she responds suspiciously. "It was an . . . experience meeting you." Mal puts his left hand on the back of her neck and holds it there for five seconds, until smoke starts to rise. Then he removes it, smiling and sighing.

"I look forward to seeing your world, and helping you and your sisters return to it. I have done these things many times before."

"We can take care of ourselves," Tyah proudly and stubbornly responds to this would-be Black Moses.

"And I can take care of your enemies," Mal responds. Tyah leaves to get the money. She understands the benefits of having such a fierce killer on her side, as well as the detriments of having Mal as an enemy. After getting his bag full of money, Mal walks out to his car with dark-tinted windows that he parked under the portico and drives back to the city. He liked the spicy aftertaste of Tyah's blood in his mouth. Not to mention the elevated body temperature caused by his extended contact with her. For that, Angel took a cold shower. Mal prefers to simmer and sweat the heat out.

Dawn, Kit, Elijah, Carlos and Denise walk down the school hall in between classes.

DENISE: It's good that the game was official and you got your win.

CARLOS: And I didn't get hurt. How long did the trainer say you'd be rehabing?

DENISE: Two weeks.

CARLOS: At least no one through a javelin at you. That was one wackass afternoon.

DENISE: Strange how everything's back to normal and everyone pretends nothing happened.

DAWN: Welcome to the Hellmouth.

KIT: Everyone was effected. Everyone did things they regret. So everyone has a reason to live in denial.

DAWN: It's more than just embarrassment. People don't want to live in a world with killer vampires and principal-eating pigs. You feel a lot safer in a normal, fake, demon-free, magic-free world.

CARLOS: Until one day when you're killed cause you didn't know how to defend yourself against the monsters you refused to believe in.

ELIJAH: Hell, I probably wouldn't believe in them if I didn't know people were out there to protect me.

DENISE: Speaking of those people, I wish that English guy taught here.

DAWN: Giles?

DENISE: Yeah. He seemed cool. And he was good at explaining things. Plus, he's probably really smart.

KIT: He went to Oxford or something. And he can read in like six dead languages.

ELIJAH: You mean languages no one speaks anymore? Not, you know, languages spoken by zombies and other dead people?

DAWN: I don't think we have courses in Sumerian, or demonology, or spells. [smiles] Though that last one could be kinda fun. As long as they screened out the bad people who could use what they learn to hurt people.

DENISE: I'm sure he could teach English or history or Latin or something normal like that.

ELIJAH: Or music. I know he sings and plays guitar. [Kit and Denise smile]

KIT: Really?

DENISE: Handsome AND musically-talented?

CARLOS: Excuse me? What was that? Cause ya know I just ate lunch.

ELIJAH: Spike also sings and plays. Plus, he knew the Sex Pistols and Patti Smith and Iggy Pop.

DENISE: He scared me. No man his age should have hair like that. It's just creepy.

KIT: And that Johnny Rotten accent. It's so cliched. News flash: this isn't 1977.

ELIJAH: He's from England! And Spike was punk before punk even existed.

DAWN: Denise, what's wrong with his hair? [after all, Dawny used to kinda like it]

CARLOS: Spike's a vampire, right? A guilty vampire who works for your sister?

DAWN: That's pretty much all you need to know about him. [And all she wants to tell them.]

CARLOS: So what's with my girl having the hots for an old guy?

DENISE: Carlos, quit buggin'.

ELIJAH: I was wondering about that too, Kit. Don't think I missed your mini-swoon.

KIT: What swoon?

ELIJAH: He sings? [Eli does a mock sigh]

DAWN: It's okay. Willow had a crush on him when she was our age.

KIT: I thought Willow's a lesbian?

DAWN: She is. But she wasn't. Not back then.

DENISE: So Dawny. Looks like you're the odd girl out.

DAWN: Please. He was, like, my sister's teacher. [She doesn't want to get into the concept of Watchers. Besides, Dawny had been busy with other crushes.]

DENISE: That's the cool thing about him. He's smart. But he's involved in all this exciting, dangerous stuff.

KIT: Like Indiana Jones.

CARLOS: More like Indy's father.

KIT: He's killed demons, right Dawny?

DAWN: Sure. But so has Xander. And he never had any training or practice. Giles had like thirty years to prepare.

ELIJAH: You know me and Carlos could kill a demon, if that's what it takes to impress you ladies.

CARLOS: I think I could stake a vamp on my own if I had to.

DAWN: You guys have it all wrong.

ELIJAH: This from the girl who's dating Superboy.

DAWN: That's not why I love him.

DENISE: Dawn's right. If we liked guys who could kill things, well, then we'd all have the hots for Spike. [Denise and Kit laugh. Dawn doesn't. She doesn't find that idea quite so ridiculous.]

ELIJAH: By the way, in case you ever feel the need to impress us, you should know that for guys, life-saving's a total turn-on.

CARLOS: Just ask Preston and Clarence. [Eli and Carlos laugh about Amanda's and Rona's boyfriends.]

ELIJAH: So in case I'm ever in trouble, and you happen to be around.

KIT: Maybe once. If you're really good to me.

ELIJAH: Aren't I always?

KIT: Just make sure to keep it up.

Eli smiles and kisses Kit. He goes off to class, as do Denise and Carlos. The bell rings. Kit grabs Dawn's arm. "Think you can miss the first ten minutes?"

"Of math? Maybe. Why?"

"To check out that Hellmouth thing. It's still doing stuff. I get a chill up my spine each time I pass the Principal's office."

"That's probably because of what happened yesterday. And don't you also have class?

"I can be late to art. And it's not just nerves. Do these Hellmouths ever close themselves?"

"No. But it wasn't opening. Just letting loose some extra energy because something was being brought forth. But that's already happened."

"What was brought forth?," a concerned Kit asks.

"Nothing you should worry about. It's only after Buffy. And the Potential Slayers. And Faith. Plus, maybe also Spike. But not us."

"Then why are you scared of the basement? Let's go."

"You're not just doing this cause you're curious and want an excuse to cut class?"

"Dawn, please. You know me better than that. I'm serious about this." Dawn thinks for a few seconds and then decides to trust her best friend. They head into the basement and turn on the lights in the area where the Hellmouth is. The two of them stand around the spot, which is covered by a crude etching of intersecting infinities on a shiny, polished stone seal, just as it was the night before. Dawn leans over to get a closer look.

"It's nothing like what was here before."

"Get away. It's dangerous." Kit picks up some dirt tosses it onto the seal. The dirt is vaporized in a white hot flame. Dawn takes several big steps back.

"Do you feel anything?," she asks Kit.

"It's stronger that yesterday. But more focused. Like, a room full of methane that explodes, versus a red-hot piece of steel. The steel's hotter. It holds more energy. But you don't feel it if you're a hundred feet away. God," Kit says as she backs up fifteen feet. "I've never felt anything like this. It's scary."

"I'll tell Buffy."

"You won't tell her about me? Or Willow? Please don't tell Willow."

"Kit, I would never betray you like that. Especially over something this important to you."

"I know. But I worry, what if things get really tough, and you think they need my help? Because, hey, maybe I could be a big help that one time. But then I'd have to deal with the aftermath."

"Willow is way too powerful to need anyone else's power."

"I wasn't strong enough," Willow tells Kennedy. They're lying in bed, not by choice, but because they're too hurt to walk. They are also too hurt to fool around, which takes most of the fun out of being in bed together. Besides, after what happened the night before, that's the last thing they're in the mood for.

"Yes you are. Different spells for different bad guys, right? You just need to find the right weapons for that bitch."

"I've never heard you use that word, sweetie."

"Well, that's what she is."

"I'd go with homicidal maniac. Calling her a bitch is the understatement of the millennium."

"I've never seen Buffy like this," Kennedy points out, though her experience with Buffy is rather limited. "Not even with the uber-vamp."

"It's happened twice now: a Big Bad came she couldn't save you girls from. And on top of that, everything that worked against the guy didn't work against the girl. Though, that's more my own demoralization than hers."

"You know a lot more tricks than you used last night. She just blind-sided us."

"I don't like feeling helpless."

"No one does. And you're anything but."

"Not with her. It was like being back in high school, except, back then, maybe I coulda floated a couple pencils into her."

"She's going to get what she deserves. And you're gonna help give it to her."

"It sounds simple enough, but say I have to go to that bad, apocalyptic place to get the job done? Going evil to defeat the Ultimate Evil isn't a very workable option."

"You won't be alone. You'll have your friends. And you'll have me. We'll keep you from falling."

"Sweetie, I know you care about me, and I love that you do, but when I'm working my magic, I am always alone. And there's nothing you or anyone else can do to change that."

Around the middle of the afternoon, Mal leads a half-dozen other vampires through the tunnels. "It has been a very long while since I smelled one of these," an excited Mal tells his followers. "I used to love killing these demons, until some cowardly magician took away their bodies. This one must have already been trapped, so he missed out on losing his flesh." They enter Justine's old dive. In the back corner of the room is an urn. Mal walks over and picks it up. He holds the vessel in front of him and removes the top. Smoke bellows out, and a few seconds later Sahjhan emerges.

"Free at last!," Sahjhan exclaims. He sees the six vampires in front of him. "And I have something to pound on." Sahjhan smiles as the vampires charge. One-by-one, he hurls them into the walls, ceiling and floor like stuffed animals. Now that the demon has proven his strength, Mal grabs him from behind, picks Sahjhan up and slams him down face-first. The demon stands up. Mal goes bumpy. "Can't we all just get along?," Sahjhan jokes. Mal lands a left hook which doesn't appear to hurt the demon. Sahjhan responds with a powerful right chop to the left side of Mal's head. That usually suffices to knock a vampire down. Mal pushes the demon ten feet back. Sahjhan lands big left and right hooks to the charging vampire's face. "Seriously. I think I can help you."

"Like I just helped you?"

"What year is it?"

Mal thinks about this. "I don't know. And which calendar?"

"Two thousand three," one of the vampires yells out. This pleases Sahjhan.

"I've hardly been gone at all. You are vampires. We have a common enemy. Another vampire. One who protects humans and kills demons."

"Sorry. I have Angel imprisoned in another dimension. But he will be dead before long."

"Which dimension?," the dimension-hopping Sahjhan asks.

"Mine. Well, one of mine. I call it Number Eight. If you want, I could let you watch me knock around his son. I've done that the past two nights. He can take more punishment that any human I've ever had the pleasure to strike."

Sahjhan can't believe what he's hearing. "Connor is here!? This child is in this dimension?"

"More of a young man than a child. Body's fully grown. Mind hasn't quite caught up yet. Why are looking scared?" Sahjhan chuckles nervously.

"Nothing scares me." Sahjhan can't figure out how Connor survived Quor Toth and returned. If Holtz is still around, Sahjhan is going to have a few words – and more-than-a-few punches – for him.

"I mention the father, no reaction. I mention the son, you look shocked. Tell me why."

"You fought Connor twice. Why didn't you kill him?"

"I kill the son when I kill the father. That will take place very soon." Naturally, Sahjhan wants to be a part of this.

"Angel has friends. They could try to interfere. I can take care of them for you."

"I'm sure you could, big, tough and wrinkly. But I would prefer to have them watch their protector die. You may watch, too."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Mal. If you have not heard of me, then you have been gone for a very long time."

Sahjhan takes a good look. Red eyes. Black skin. Unusually long fangs. Yep. He'd heard of this guy all right. "I was going to say it would be very hard for a single vampire to kill those two. Perhaps you can pull it off. But it would be far easier if you had backup."

"Never needed it. You have a connection to the son. It surprised you that he is here. There were prophecies about the vampire child. Lists of demons he was supposed to slay. Were you one of those demons?"

"Only fools believe in prophesies," Sahjhan fibs.

"I know. But you believe in them," Mal responds with a disdainful grin. "To be fair, I do not think the son is strong enough to kill a demon of your abilities. Not yet. In ten years, perhaps. If I were you, I would kill him before he gets too strong. But, since I'm me, I am going to do that for you. As well as the father. When you next awake, they will be no more."

"Next?," Sahjhan asks with a laugh. Sure, Mal was a strong vampire, but he also seemed to be a tad full of himself.

"Get back in," Mal commands. Sahjhan laughs even louder. He looks for the urn, and spots it thirty feet behind Mal. Knock him down, sweep aside the other vampires, smash the pottery and he walks the streets a free man. "On the count of three," Mal warns. "Three!"

Sahjhan reaches his right arm out and grabs Mal's sweatshirt. He spins Mal 180 degrees around and tries to throw him into he back wall. Mal reverses the move and throws Sahjhan into the wall. He kicks the demon's face with his right foot. Sahjhan lands a right hook kick to Mal's ribs that knocks him back ten feet. The blow would have crushed a human's rib cage and lung. The demon moves out and attacks, but Mal dodges left and right hooks, then blocks a left jab. He connects with a left cross, two right jabs and a right hook. Mal ducks under Sahjhan's right hook and hits him with a left hook. Sahjhan brings his arms together and boxes Mal's ears. The move usually knocks a vampire out or crushes a human's skull. Mal is shaken, but standing. Sahjhan connects with a right uppercut to his stomach and tries to sweep Mal's legs out. The vampire leaps in the air and lands a flying left kick to the demon's face. Mal follows this up with a right kick to the demon's left knee. Sahjhan winces. He grabs Mal round the throat with his right hand and begins to squeeze. Mal lands two right kicks to Sahjhan's stomach, but they don't get him free. Sahjhan finds it odd that he hasn't already crushed this vampire's neck. It felt like squeezing a lead pipe. Finally, Mal puts both arms on Sahjhan's right arm and dislocates his elbow. The demon grunts and lets go. The vampires cheer. Mal lands a right kick, right jab and left hook. Sahjhan hits Mal's nose with a right cross. Mal roars. It echoes throughout the concrete room. Mal blocks a left uppercut, lands a left cross and two right jabs, throws Sahjhan fifteen feet back into the wall, leaps at the demon and head-butts him. Mal finishes off with three jabs to the heart before stepping back. The vampires toss him the urn and the lid. Sahjhan groans. He's not used to feeling physical pain. And he doesn't want to risk physical death.

"In you go," Mal tells him condescendingly. "Come on. Best to stay off the streets until your nemesis is dead." Sahjhan contemptuously averts eye contact and wills himself back into the urn. Mal puts on the lid, places the urn in his satchel and leaves the building. The vampires, now even more impressed by their leader, take the tunnels home. Mal decides to explore the town some more.

Wes has a large map of Los Angeles County on the wall. He's put pins in the map, each one signifying the location of a probably kill by Mal. The pins for Sunday's kills are red. Those for Monday's are green. In his hands is a clipboard with a list of all the victims, as well as their age and gender. He tallies them on the bulletin board according to these two variables.

"Are you looking for a pattern?," Fred asks.

"More of a profile. Over eighty kills. Most of them men. All of them adults in the prime of life. No children."

"Well, it is hard to find a lotta them out at night."

"But he's had opportunities. One of the cars he attacked contained two parents and two children. He killed the parents and left the children in the vehicle, untouched. That's highly unusual in a vampire."

"They usually like the kinder?"

"Love it. And considering how much blood Mal consumes, it makes no sense for him to be finicky."

"How do ya know he drains all his victims?"

"I have a source down at the coroner's office."

"They must be busy."

"The sheer magnitude. For them, it's like a war, or a natural disaster. Now do you notice anything about the locations of the attacks?"

"They seem to be random. Widely distributed. He can cover a lotta ground, and he ain't territorial."

"Notice how there are no killings in downtown. And yet, the median point for this data set would be right in the middle of downtown Los Angeles."

"So you think that's where he's nesting?"

"The lack of killings would ensure that he didn't draw attention to himself. And center city is full of abandoned buildings."

"Easy access to subways. Lotsa tall buildings to look down from and spot your enemies – or your meal, from a mile away."

"Our information indicates that Mal prefers to live in style."

"Like Angel?"

"But with less attention to gardens and more attention to security. He would want something large and without windows. Such as a theater."

"An abandoned theater."

"I did a little research and discovered that there are twelve abandoned movie theaters in downtown Los Angeles alone."

"That many? And no one's tried to do anything with 'em?"

"There's a surplus of downtown office space, and the preservation groups are against turning all those fine, old art-deco buildings into parking lots."

"Think of all the vampires who could live in those buildings. It's a threat to public health."

"Actually, vampires rarely nest in them. At least not since Angel came to town. No direct sewer access. A handful of exits which can be easily blocked. It's an ideal trap."

"Unless you're not afraid of your enemies."

"I suspect Mal would actually welcome a surprise attack."

"Which is one very good argument against trying one."

"I would like to know exactly where he resides, if only because it will make it easier to track him."

"Lemme get this straight. A surprise daylight attack is too dangerous. But chasing him down at night, out in the open, is just fine and dandy?"

"We have to do something. I would also like to know how many other vampires are with him."

"Have you tried anything else to open the portal?"

"All yesterday. And again all this morning. There are no spells, no codes, no magic words to open a nodal dimension. It requires blood magic. The blood of the creature that controls the dimension."

"So we don't gotta kill Mal, just get a couple drops of his blood?"

"It might take more than that."

"But to find out, all we hafta do is stab him with some swords or daggers. Or maybe even just put a bullet through him."

"Through who?," Cordelia asks as she enters the office.

"Mal," Fred answers. "Wesley says it's his blood that opens the portal to where Angel is."

"I guess that qualifies as good news at this point."

Clayton walks into Daniel's office.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Your city's falling apart."

"Things have been worse. Look out your window. The sun's still shining."

"It's not just the police officers. Or the massacring of scores of civilians. But the chaos that is causing isn't helpful. On top of that, he's killing demons. Demons who work for us."

"Ever get the feeling we're working for them?"

"Your point?"

"The fewer demons we have to kow-tow to, the better."

"You actually believe this vampire is doing us a favor?"

"Possibly. We can't be sure yet."

"He's also going after organized criminals with impunity. I just had the Crips leader in St. Louis on the phone. He was livid. Usually Lamont's a great guy, but you do not want to deal with him when he's angry."

"You two hang out?," Clayton asks with a chuckle, imagining Daniel the diminutive nebbish palling around with gangstas.

"Lawyers and criminals go together like, well, insert the scatological metaphor of your choice. They drum up fantastic amounts of billable hours for this branch and many others."

"Mal is killing our human clients? Now that is a problem," Clayton conceded, finally sounding serious. "Do we know why he is doing this?"

"Not really. This vampire's a kill-for-the-sake-of-killing type."

"Aren't they all?"

"Yes. But he's far more prolific."

Clayton paces back and forth, thinking over the situation. "If a well-organized, heavily-armed gang can't handle this vampire, what am I supposed to do?"

"We have people trained to handle this sort of situation."

"People who can't even subdue Angel. How are they supposed to take down someone Angel can't stop?"

"You could always try and make a deal with him. Let him know you are on his side."

"He doesn't need us. What's to stop him from tearing out my insides?" Daniel ponders this possibility and manages a small grin.

"That is always a risk. But so is letting this guy strip you of your power."

"I'm a patient man. That's why I've gotten this far. This vampire has been in town for two days. If he's still here in another four, I'll deal with him."

"It's your career, Clay."

"Monsters come and go. We endure. Nature will take its course, and we will end up ahead. I don't know how just yet, but we will. You watch, Danny. Where others see trouble, I see opportunity."

"All I see is a guy fiddling while his city burns," Daniel shoots back.

"Nothing's getting burnt," Clayton glibly responds before leaving. Clay thinks that Daniel is trying to be proactive, just like Lindsey and Lilah and Gavin. And Clayton knows how successful they were. Thus, he's decided that Wolfram & Hart should be reactive for a change - wait for the right pitch rather than swing at everything within two feet of the plate.

Gunn, Wes, Cordy and Fred checked the abandoned theaters one-by-one. The first four were empty, though there was evidence of recent vampire habitation in two of them. The Orpheum is fifth on their list. Cordelia takes an ax to the plywood covering one of the doors. She breaks through the wood, but hits a sheet of aluminum nailed to the inside of the door. This is new. It indicates that vampires had reinforced the doors to prevent a surprise blast of sunshine from finding its way inside. Gunn takes the ax and bashes open a large pad lock. Fred opens the door, and the light floods in. The other three enter, making sure to remain in the light. To their right, near the stairs to the balcony, are fifteen vampires, pointing and laughing at the human intruders. Fred props the door open with a doorstop and enters. To her left is Wesley, to his left is Gunn, and to his left is Cordelia. Fred and Cordy point their crossbows at the vampires. They leap ten feet forward, then stop cold, twenty feet from the humans. The quick burst was to remind these demon fighters that they can easily be overwhelmed. At the same time, Cordy and Fred know that none of the vamps wants to die. So mutual fear ensures a standoff.

Around the same time, Mal is standing up on the subway. He wears white shoes, white slacks and a white hooded sweatshirt. The train stops, and he walks out. As he heads up the stairs, Mal pulls the hood over his head and puts his hands in the muffler. He emerges onto the street and walks towards the theater, always looking downwards to ensure that the sunlight does not strike his face. The white clothing reflects the light and absorbs less of the light's energy than darker colors. This provides a little extra security against burning. He also makes sure to stay whenever possible in the shadows of the buildings.

Back in the lobby, Gunn opens the door to the theater itself while still remaining in the light. A film was being shown. Gunn didn't get a chance to notice which one, or how many vampires were watching it, because at the moment he looked in, Lou walked out through the doors to Gunn's right. He was black, six foot one, somewhat lighter-skinned than Gunn, and a little thinner. His hair was in corn rows, and his vampire face was nice-and-bumpy. Gunn rejoins the other three. They stand shoulder-to-shoulder perpendicular to the open door. Lou stands twelve feet away, in front of the other vampires. When he arrives, they back up. It's clear to everyone that Lou's some sort of leader.

"We you invited?," Lou asks with a smirk.

"To this dusty, rat-infested, run-down dive?," Cordelia responds. "We wouldn't accept the invitation. This is a real choice piece of property. To get it, you probably had to what? Kill one, two, maybe three homeless guys? Were all the subway stations and abandoned warehouses already taken?"

Lou takes a few small steps towards Cordy, stopping six feet away. He looks over Wes and Gunn. "So the ladies protect your ass? What do you think this is, Sunnydale?" The fifteen vampires on the other side of the lobby laugh.

"No," Cordelia flatly responds. "Because a cocky loser like you wouldn't last one night in that town."

Lou strokes his chin with his right hand. "So you and Angel go way back. Some guys don't know a good thing when they see it. His loss. Cause you're pretty fine for a white girl." Lou walks behind her, then comes back around. "Damn fine. And I can tell you got a nice, sweet vicious streak. Real promising material. So why didn't he sire you when he was evil? The first time around. Small town like Sunnydale, couldn't have been that many choicer pieces than yourself." He sees that she's about to fire. Lou snaps his fingers. The fifteen vampires rush up so they're ten feet in front of Cordy and friends. She doesn't want to find out if they'll risk their lives for Lou. Meanwhile, Lou decides to move on. "Mista Charlie! The man, the myth - in my house."

"You mean Mal's house," Gunn curtly responds. "Glad you know my name. To bad I don't know yours. Hard to keep track of the lackeys in this town."

"You're one to talk, Charlie. Though you do seem to have toughened up these two jokers," Lou tells him before glancing at Wes and Fred, whom he doesn't know, and who don't look like fighters to Lou. "You four got ganas, busting in here like this. Now you can leave before Mal comes out, and go running home to tell your buddies how brave you were." Lou and all the other vampires back up. When he's twenty feet away and still backtracking, Cordy fires her crossbow. Fred shoots hers a second later. While still moving away from then, Lou grabs Cordy's arrow in his right hand and Fred's in his left. When he is thirty feet away, Lou tosses them back. Gunn parries one with his ax, and Wesley blocks the other with his sword. Fred and Cordy quickly reload. Lou stands in front of what was the concessions stand, while the other vampires sit and recline on the stairs. Lou checks his watch. Mal appears to be running a few minutes late.

Fred turns to her right and steps towards the open door, only to see a man dressed in white entering the building. He grabs her crossbow, tosses it into the middle of the street and throws Fred out on the sidewalk. Cordy aims and fires. Mal puts his right elbow out in front of his chest. The arrow bounces off the elbow. Cordy sees the vampires to her left closing in. She fears a trap. Mal is too close for Gunn to swing his ax, so he hits Mal in the chest with the butt end. Wesley stabs for his chest, which surprises Mal. He moves to his right and turns sideways, then watches the sword move by. Before he can pull the sword back, Mal knocks Wesley down with a right jab. Gunn takes a dagger in his left hand and goes for Mal's stomach. The vampire grabs Gunn's left wrist with his right hand, decks him with a left cross, grabs Charles before he falls down and tosses him into Fred, who was running at Mal from behind. The vampires cheer. Cordy helps Wesley up and they charge Mal simultaneously.

"Ole!," Mal shouts out to more cheers. He ducks under Wesley's sword and beneath the front of Cordy's crossbow. With his right hand, he grabs Wesley's legs. With his left, he takes hold of Cordy's. Mal flips both of them forward, and they land on their backs at the same moment. The vampires yell out their approval. Mal kicks both of them in the back with his right foot as they try to get up. Wes and Cordy roll out into the sidewalk, joining Fred and Gunn. Mal faces them, in the sunlight, with his head looking at the floor.

"Please wait your turn to die. No cutting in line!," Mal jokes to the humans. They run away. Mal removes the doorstop and closes the door. Only then does he pull back his hood. The vampires stand and applaud.

"Please, please," Mal pleads. "That was a mere skirmish. The real battles will be tonight."

NEXT: Nina hangs with Buffy at the Bronze. Mal takes on Gunn's army, Wesley's crew - and Gwen. Connor reverts to Destroyer Mode. And Angel bravely fights his way through exotic and bizarre dimensions.


	25. One Very Bad Mama

As Angel wonders through hostile worlds, friends begin to unravel. Faith tries to bond with the devastated Potentials. And Nina tells Buffy the story of her life. Also, Nina tries to explain why she considers herself to be Dawn's real mother.When the gang returns home, they find Connor in the lobby. He looks less happy than usual.

"Where have you been?"

"Recon," Fred replies.

"Just a little scouting," Cordelia adds nervously.

"You've been hurt."

"No we haven't," Wesley responds. "Certainly not today."

"These are from the other night," Gunn explains. Connor is not convinced. Cordy decides to convince him.

"First of all, it's the daytime. Mal may be a super vampire, but sunlight's still a big no-no for him. Second, if we had run into Mal, wouldn't we look a lot worse that this? You know what he can do. We'd be four big bruises." This convinces Connor somewhat. Lorne comes running in through the opposite door.

"There's something you need to see. Well, you don't need to. But it would be educational."

"More victims?," Cordy asks. "I've seen enough corpses this week."

"Not corpses. And not human. You wanna know which demons Mal's been killing? Well, Mal wants you, and a lot of other people, to know. He's set up a museum of sorts in a hangar at the old airport. I won't go on. The picture really is worth a thousand words."

With nothing better to do, the five of them follow Lorne to the abandoned hangar. Inside, Mal has hung from the rafters various parts of the demon's he's killed. "Like what the Lakers do with championship banners," Gunn notes. There are plenty of large, fearsome heads with horns of different shapes and sizes. A few imposing torsos. And the skin of a thirty foot-long giant snake. Its head and fangs reach down to within less than ten feet of tops of their heads. Wesley spots two arms from a Polgara demon with their characteristic skewers. He can identify almost all the demons on sight. Most had never surfaced for Angel to fight. They probably remained underground and in sea caves, minding their own business, confident that no one would be stupid enough to disturb the peace and quiet they enjoyed between rare public appearances. Connor walks around and gets a good look. Unlike the others, this display doesn't worry him.

"I killed meaner-looking things in Quor-Toth," he dismissively tells them.

"Is this supposed to intimidate us?," Fred asks rhetorically.

"No," Cordy responds. "I think it's to scare the demons and impress the vampires. Right Lorne?"

"Two for two on that one, Cordy. But I think it also serves as a warning people who want to take him on."

"If I could do this to them, imagine what I could do to you," Fred explains.

"That pretty much sums it up," Lorne answers with a gulp.

"They're all very strong," Wesley tells his friends. "A few are considered particularly fearsome. But we don't know what weapons Mal used against them. Or if he ambushed the demons. Many of these species spend large amounts of time in hibernation."

"So we shouldn't let this scare us," Connor concludes.

"I think he already did enough to scare us," Lorne counters. Connor's still bruised and limping, after all.

Angel finds himself standing on the roof of a palace situated on a small island surrounded by dozens of other small islands. A demon's idea of Venice, he thinks to himself. The L-shaped building is eight hundred feet long. The shorter part of the L juts out four hundred feet. At the joint where they intersect is a tower that stretches more than two hundred feet into the air. It tapers periodically, to that the tower is one hundred feet-square at its base and twenty feet-square at the top. While the dimension Angel was previously in appeared finished, this one was definitely still under construction. Hundreds of demons moved earth and brought in stones on high, flat-bottomed barges. They were building causeways and bridges, as well as dumping land fill to increase the size of a few islands. Angel saw a stadium and an amphitheater in the distance, as well as long, tall buildings which looked like warehouses and factories. In the distance he could see houses closely packed together. There were a large variety of different demons at work, each species appearing to specialize in certain tasks. A few dozen larger demons stood over the hundreds of smaller demons, holding whips and barking commands. Each of the big demons looked to be from a different species. Angel assumes this is one of the ways Mal prevents rebellion. However, he doesn't see any of the overseers use the whips. The workers appear to be fairly docile, as if they've already had their spirit beaten or bred out of them.

On an island near the palace, Angel observes a very curious ritual. On top of a one hundred-foot tall step pyramid, demon priests put other demons on an altar and behead them. The heads and bodies then roll down the steps. At the bottom, one demon tosses the body into the lagoon, and a sea monster leaps to the surface and devours it (another good way to prevent rebellion or escape). The head is carried across an arched bridge to another island which contains a fifty foot-tall statue of Mal. Surrounding the statue is a circular colonnade whose columns are made of demon heads. That pretty much settled the Cult of Personality question once-and-for-all. Angel turns around. Behind the palace are islands where more demon slaves are building more housing for other demon slaves to live in. Angel realizes he faces a host of dangers as he attempts to find a way back. Foremost among them is what could happen if he leaves the palace. Angel tries to find a way off the roof. Then he notices that he has company. On towers to his left and right stand twenty demons, pointing their bows at him. They simultaneously fire their wooden arrows at the intruder. Faced with this deadly crossfire, Angel has no choice but to leap off the roof.

Madari, Fadila and Ariella sit on the couch. Rona and Amanda sit in the two chairs. The five of them watch television. Faith walks up and leans against the fireplace.

"How you girls holding up?," she asks them.

"Can't complain," Rona answers. She and Amanda feel guilty for not being injured worse in last night's fight. Madari has a bandage on her neck. Ella and Fadila each have stitches and bandages over their three stab wounds. Their clothes cover these up, so they look better than they feel.

"We're all lucky to be alive," Fadila tells Faith. The Potentials know that Seth and Nina could have killed any of them. So their survival was only due to luck of the draw.

"Can't imagine what you girls go through," Faith responds. "Fighting for your lives, but not having any super powers. Me and B never had to go through that."

"You know what it's like to be hurt, right?," Ariella asks. Faith laughs. Then she pulls up her shirt for a moment to show them the scars on her stomach.

"The one on the right's from a pretty nasty knife. Then I took a dive out a fourth story window. Put me in a coma for ten months."

"Was that when you were evil and tried to kill Buffy and Angel?," Amanda asks, inadvertently providing the context Faith had chose not to mention.

"B tried to kill me cause I tried to kill Angel. I was also gonna kill a buncha other people the next day. Karma can be a real bitch. The one on the left's from a little over a week ago. Vampire staked me. I staked her. She didn't take it so well."

"Was that the vampire who killed Vi and sired Spike, though not in that order?," Amanda asks, this time helping Faith look better by pointing out that she killed a vampire who killed Potentials.

"And also killed the Slayer before me. Dru was a real bitch, too. A real crazy bitch."

"You fought her with Lindsey, didn't you?," Madari asks. The faces of the other Potentials light up. Mentioning him has a way of boosting their spirits. Across the foyer, Anya and Dawn sit at the dining room table going through Giles's books.

"You would think there'd be more brother-sister bad guys," Anya tells Dawn.

"More? You mean you found some?"

"Sorry kiddo." Dawn looks cross at being called "kiddo."

"It should be easy, or at least possible to track them down. Especially since we have their names."

"Maybe those were pseudonyms."

"We need more books," Dawn announces out of frustration.

"Nothing on the net?"

"Zilch."

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Seth and Nina have never been to this dimension before." Xander enters and sits down.

"How you two holding up?"

Xander's question surprises Dawn. "How are WE holding up? We're like the only people in this house who haven't been injured."

"You got your new hand," Anya notes.

"Sure did," Xander says as he lifts his left forearm onto the table. "A carpenter with a wooden hand. There's something tragically ironic in that. Or, maybe not."

"It could be just tragic," Anya sadly notes as she touches the hand. Dawn's never glimpsed this sad, tender, human side of Anya's personality. After ten uncomfortable seconds of silence, Dawn decides to change the subject, if only to keep Anya's pity from causing Xander to feel sorry for himself, since she knows that he doesn't like to wallow.

"How's Buffy?"

"Okay - physically." Xander responds. "If not fine, then close to it. But she does seem a little depressed. Same with Willow. Both of them are having morale problems."

"Apparently Nina talks trash, and she's strong enough to back it up," Anya interjects, returning to her usual inappropriateness. "I think they're bothered by Nina being a woman. Sure, they've fought women before, but Glory was a total ditz. And also a deity. I understand their difficulties. It's hard to use the I am woman hear me roar' speech on an enemy who roars back."

"It's just surprise," Dawn begins, coming to her sister's defense. "Seth surprised her. Nina surprised her. The Turokh-han surprised her. They do great in the first encounter. But once Buffy's seen their moves, once she knows what to expect, then she gains the upper hand." Dawn looks at Xander and feels bad about her choice of words. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he responds reassuringly.

"I am worried," Anya counters. "About the world ending. But even more about what happens if it doesn't. I'm worried for you, Xander. You make a living – and a good living – making things with your hands. And now you're missing one of them."

"I'll manage. Hey, like you said, if that's the biggest of my worries, I'll be lucky." Dawn sees that Giles has just returned and walks over to him.

"Hey Giles. How ya doing?"

"Reasonable. Considering the circumstances. Is Buffy still in her room?"

"Yeah. But just since dinner. I'm sure she'll come down if you want her to."

"That's okay." GIles and Dawn enter the dining room.

"I'm sorry. We couldn't find anything on her," Dawn confesses.

"Don't worry. You did your best." Buffy comes downstairs and enters the dining room. Everyone stops talking and looks at her.

"I saw your car pull up. How did it go?," Buffy asks with a look of profound sadness.

"I've arranged for the bodies to be flown back home. Molly's parents took the news very hard. Izora's parents don't speak English, but I communicated with her uncle, and he said they were sad, but proud. They know their daughter died a hero, fighting the enemies of Allah."

"Who's Allah?," Buffy asks. Then she gets it, and feels a little embarrassed. "Oh. Of course. Do they think what we're doing is some religious thing?"

"Fighting evil is almost always a religious thing," Anya explains. "Except, of course, for us."

"We're the first godless evil-fighters?," Dawn asks in jest.

"I don't know about you, but that's how I'd like to go down in the history books," Xander jokes.

"We're anything but godless," Giles objects.

"You're right. We're just not very god-full," Buffy adds. "It's nice to have a couple divinities in your cheering section, even if they are just spectators." For Buffy, it was better to have an absentee god than an active god who chose to let all sorts of horrible things happen to her. Then she gets back to business. "Any word on our new purple-haired pain-in-the-ass?"

"No," Anya answers. "You seem to be the only human being she's ever bothered to torment. Which is sort of an honor."

"Some people get Nobel Prizes for being really good at what they do. I get an evil X-Woman who wants to rip my heart out. Any idea why Willow's magic fizzled, and how to make it not fizzle the next time?"

Giles tries to field this one. "I talked with Willow earlier today. She suspects that Nina is immune to word magic. She may only be hurt by more primal forms of magic. Willow is confident that she can adjust, provided she has a few days to recharge and recover."

"I think we all need that," Buffy concurs. "None of us is in any shape to fight tonight. At least we'll be safe in here."

"I fear that could damage morale," Giles objects. Buffy is quite surprised by this. "There is one other place where we are safe."

"Actually, there are two," Anya corrects him.

Dawn smiles. "You're right!," she exclaims. Then Dawn comes back down to earth. "Except that would be a really long road trip."

Giles remembers that Mal is in Los Angeles, and gets quite worried by this idle suggestion. "Also, I think Angel might mind us getting in his way."

"You just threw that in there to make going to the Bronze sound sensible, right?," Buffy asks. She certainly could do without Angel-related complications for the time being. Of course, none of them (not even Giles) knows that Angel is not in Los Angeles. And, if they had all come down to the Hyperion, Buffy and her friends would have found people even more demoralized than they were.

"You think getting Mal's blood will bring Angel back?," Connor asks Wesley.

"It's our best hope," he responds.

"It's our only hope," Fred clarifies.

"He's too good," Connor concludes with despair. "Even for just that."

"No one's that good," Cordy objects. "Say all six of us throw knives at him at the same time. He can't block them all."

"He'd jump up in the air," Connor replies. "Then you'd miss."

"Not if we could pin him in place," Wesley counters.

Lorne runs with this suggestion. "Connor tracks Mal down. He fights him. While they're going at it, we throw cutlery in his back and draw some blood. With all the fisticuffs, he won't hear them coming."

Connor is slightly alarmed. He knows Lorne isn't fond of him. He figures that maybe Lorne doesn't mind using Connor as a decoy who takes a beating. But this crosses a line. "Again. What if he jumps? Then I get five knives in the chest! Or the face. Is that what you want?"

"Not anymore," Lorne quips.

Gunn decides to jump in. "I think we're missing the obvious. Mal knows how to get inside his crib. Mal know we wanna get inside his crib to rescue Angel. Knowing all that, why would he even give us the chance to get a drop of his blood?"

"He already has," Wesley points out. "Twice. No, three times. But the first two times he actually invited us to fight him."

"Then maybe his blood ain't what opens the portal," Gunn responds. "Or, it takes more blood than he thinks we could get. How much CAN we get on a couple blades?"

"I thought you agreed with me that we should go after him tonight?," Wesley asks. He assumed they were on the same page.

"Yeah. To kill 'em. What do you think I was out doin' most of today?"

"Rounding up a posse?," Wes asks dismissively.

"Bringin' on board a few more demon fighters. Close to twenty so far. We'll see how well Mal handles that many enemies."

"You think you can overpower him," Connor concludes condescendingly. "You can't. No matter how many people you have."

"You expect us to fight side-by-side with people we don't even know?," Cordelia wonders.

"What? You got a problem with my old friends?," an offended Gunn asks back.

"It's not like that, Charles. You have to be willing to die for the people you fight with. You have to love them. Okay, not love, seeing how I did work with Buffy. But you have to at least care if they don't make it to tomorrow. You can't have that with a bunch of strangers you've never seen before and won't see again."

"What about the chain-of-command?," Fred asks. "Who's gonna be in charge? How we gonna make sure everyone works together?"

"You can't," Wesley replies, shocking Gunn. "Which is fine. If we coalesce into a massive force, Mal will simply avoid us. However, if we work in small squads, five or six to a car, we have a chance. Mal would fall upon one car, while the other squads moved in to surround him."

"Draw him into a trap," Lorne concludes. "You think he'd fall for that?"

"It's worth a try. He has no reason to assume that the assorted demon fighters in this city will join forces. They've always operated independently."

"And if they keep it up, pretty soon there won't be any demon fighters left," Gunn predicts. "Last night, Mal picked off four more in Santa Monica and two in Van Nuys. Uniting is the only chance they have of surviving. And if we don't help them, what kind of fighters are we?"

"Alive," Connor bluntly responds. "Why don't they just stay home?"

"And let Mal rule the streets?," Charles shoots back.

"He already does."

"You ever consider that we could win if you were fighting with us?"

"Mal would just kill me first. I can't help you." Connor goes upstairs. Everyone's a little concerned by his defeatism.

"Connor's always been kinda grumpy, but this is a whole new kind of surly," Lorne comments.

"It's like he's given up," Fred adds with concern.

"Can you blame him?," Cordy asks provocatively. "He tried, he failed, and Angel isn't here to save the day. Connor's been through more hard times than we can even imagine, but I don't think he's ever felt this helpless."

"Not all of us have thrown in the towel," Wesley remarks.

Finally, something Gunn can approve of. "So you're on board with me?," Charles assumes with a smile.

"Not quite. For the sort of coordination killing Mal would demand, we must train with these demon fighters. We could have them ready in two nights. Perhaps one."

Gunn is back to disagreeing with Wesley. "We ain't got that much time. Most of these guys, they don't got homes. At least not the kinds you can keep a vamp as strong as Mal from entering. Two nights from now, they'll either be dead or out of town. And then we'll have to fight Mal on our own."

"If the demon fighters are going to unite and fight tonight, I wish them the best of luck. More importantly, I hope we can find Mal and obtain some of his blood before they make their last stand. Because if we can get to Angel, they won't have to."

"You're still goin' with that?"

"We can't kill him tonight. We can't force the demon fighters to hold off. So getting a few drops of Mal's blood is our only viable option."

"Unless you're wrong," Gunn points out. "You don't know if his blood will open the portal. I know a stake through his heart or an ax through his neck will kill him." Cordy and Lorne leave, realizing that they really aren't a part of this debate.

"Listen to you two," Fred begins. "Arguing over whether a couple people should die, or a couple dozen. Either way, you're gonna die. Both of you. And for what? To prove your manhood? To show you can fight the good fight without Angel? Look. I don't know any other demon fighters in this town. So, I really can't get upset if they die. I know that's a horrible thing to say, but you can't mourn for strangers. You two aren't strangers. I love you both. If I didn't think it was hopeless, I would be right by your sides. But I do. The world won't be a safer place if you die trying to stop Mal."

"We have to try," a somewhat surprised Wesley responds.

"We have to fight," Gunn concurs. "It's what we do. It's what I do. It's what I've always done."

"No it's not. Both of you know better. When you two come to your senses, you know where to find me." She starts walking to the stairs, but turns around when she's on the landing. "I can't stop you. I know that. But ask yourselves something: Is this the last time you want to see me?" The two men sit there for a while. Then Wesley gets up and leaves, while Charles walks over to the weapons case. If they backed down every time a fight put their lives at risk, where would they be?

Dawn's upstairs doing homework, Andrew's in the basement doing laundry (anything to feel useful and valued), and Fadila and Ariella watch movies. They're still feeling awful about losing Izora, especially Fadila. Hence, they didn't feel much like going out. Giles decided to stay home with them, in part because he's taking the latest losses hard, and in part to be there for the girls if they need someone to comfort them. Everyone else is at the Bronze. Madari took off her large bandage and just has a butterfly bandage on her neck because that's slightly less noticeable to her boyfriend. Rona and Amanda are also with their guys. Meanwhile, Keith is looking for his girl.

"Hey Amanda. Is Molly here?," Keith asks her. Amanda's face turns ashen. Twenty four hours ago, Molly was in Keith's arms. How to explain his sudden, unexplainable death to an outsider.

"Molly had to go back to England. Family stuff. I'm sorry."

"Oh. I see. Did she leave a number?"

"Sorry. It was pretty sudden. She didn't have a chance to - "

"It's okay. I-I understand." Keith walks away dejected, feeling bad, though not nearly as bad as he would if he knew the truth. She came out of nowhere. So it did kind of make sense that she'd leave without warning. Still, he did feel a certain void.

"My mom worked on a few of your friends," Prashant tells Madari. "She said all of you were very calm and tough." Madari had forgotten than Prashant's mother was a doctor. She knew this raised questions she couldn't answer.

"Okay. Tell her thanks, for helping us heal. And tell her we're doing fine."

"That's a pretty bad cut," Prashant says as he runs his right hand down her neck. "You could have been killed." Madari looks nervous.

"But I didn't. And that's what should matter to you, right?," Madari asks, trying to divert Prashant's attention from why she has this wound.

"Does this make you uncomfortable? I understand. Okay, I don't. But, I've heard things. And my mom's seen things. Apparently there's an epidemic in this town of people getting stabbed with barbeque forks. My point is, well, you just said it. I'm glad you're here." Madari smiles with relief. "Maybe all of you are part of some gang, and you got cut in a knife fight with another gang. But, I doubt that. You don't seem like the type."

"Maybe I don't seem like a lot of things I am," Madari responds with a smirk. "But you're right. I'm not that. Let's go dance."

"You're lucky you weren't in school yesterday. It was insane. People fighting for no reason. Animals running through the halls," Preston tells Amanda.

"Sounds like I should have been there," she responds. "To protect you." She puts her right hand under the table and onto his left knee. Preston smiles and takes her left hand in his right.

"Yeah. You do have a way of being there when I need you."

"Weird," Amanda responds with a smile. "I was about to say the same thing about you."

In another part of the club, Rona sits on a bench with Clarence. He has his right arm around her shoulders.

"Let's just say I'm glad we wear pads when we play lacrosse. And in chemistry someone unhooked one of the bunsen burners and tried to set the whole lab on fire. I know this may sound a little wimpy, but I was so glad when I made it home and knew I was safe."

"Nothing wimpy about that. I know the feeling." Rona kisses him. Behind the dance floor and underneath the balcony, Buffy sits with Spike, Xander, Anya, Willow, Kennedy and Faith. Ska band Less Than Jake is onstage playing "The Science Of Selling Yourself Short."

"Girls seem to be enjoying their conjugal visits," Faith tells Buffy.

"Near-death experiences have a way of making people wanna snuggle with their honeys," she responds.

"Speaking of honeys," Xander says as he spots a particularly striking woman on the dance floor.

"She's okay," Spike comments sarcastically. "If you go for long legs and a tight - ," Spike pauses when he remembers Buffy's two feet to his right. "High heels."

"Yes. The shoes are nearly as tight as that dress," Anya jokes. Out on the dance floor is a tall woman with long black hair. She wears a short red dress and five inch black heels. She's surrounded by five or six very eager men. She's facing the stage, and thus has her back to Buffy and friends. Then, while she's dancing, the woman turns around. When they see her face, Buffy, Willow, Faith and Spike shiver and sit straight up in their chairs. Kennedy starts hyperventilating.

"Bugger all," Spike says.

"Oh, oh . . . whoa," Willow adds, not quite capable of forming words.

"Is, is she - ?," Xander asks.

"I think their speechlessness means yes," Anya concludes. Xander looks at his friends. When he realizes that Anya's correct, he gets nauseous. He's never been turned on by one of their Big Bads. "Oh God. Oh God. I just, I just. Oh God. I really have to step checking women out before I see their faces."

"Tell me about it," Kennedy comments, to Willow's profound surprise. She was supposed to say that.

"I assume she wasn't wearing that last night?," Anya asks.

"Not even bloody close," Spike answers.

"What's she doing here?," Faith wonders.

"Looks like the same thing we are," Spike responds.

"No," Anya counters. "We're not reeling in men by the truckload. Though I'm sure we could if we wanted to."

"Why would an agent of the First want to kick back?," Willow asks.

"She can blend in a lot better than the uber-vamp," Xander jokes.

"She can't hurt us. Not in here," Buffy reminds them.

"What about on our way to the car?," Kennedy inquires.

"Stalking us? Waiting for us to leave? That's beneath her," Spike concludes.

The song ends. "She's Gonna Break Soon" begins. After bobbing her head to the beat for a few seconds, Nina walks towards Buffy. She's smiling, evidently getting a kick at how nervous she makes her enemies.

"She must know I'm a demon magnet," Xander mutters under his breath. "Well tough luck. This time, I know better."

Nina stops at their table and looks down at Spike. "You know what happens when you rip out a vampire's heart? They stand there, like a statue. Awake, alert, trapped forever. "Or, until the sun hits them or they get beheaded. Course, I could make sure neither of those things ever happens to you."

Spike tries to hide that he's intimidated. "Thanks for the tip, love. I'll be sure to remember it when I'm watching someone smash your head in."

Nina ignores Spike and stares at Buffy and Faith. "Well would you look at us? Three hot mamas out on the town. So where are your men? I know. Maybe you're taking it easy tonight." She points at a bruise on Faith's left cheek. "You should put some ice on that. Or, you could learn to duck." Then she looks again at Buffy. "Me and blondie need to talk. Not you, bleach bum. Just the lady." Naturally, Buffy doesn't look very trusting. "Relax, babe. I won't bite. Unlike some people here. Besides, I can't hurt a fly in here. No, I guess I could. Just not any humans or demons. That about covers all of you."

"You must really like being where you're not wanted," Buffy responds.

"Oooh. The popular girl's being tough on the new kid. It's not like I'm asking for a dance. I'm saving those for someone else." Nina glances flirtatiously at Willow. "I know you must have a million questions for me. I wanted to give the answers to the dashing older gentleman. But he's not here. So you'll do." Nina gestures over to the bar. Buffy doesn't see the harm.

"Just so we're clear on something, this is because you're lonely and you have no friends?," Buffy sarcastically asks Nina.

"I used to have friends. Something took them away from me. I'll tell you what. Because you're nice. Sometimes I like 'em nice. Other times I prefer nasty." She then shoots Willow another look before walking away. After a few steps, Nina turns around. "Come on. You must be desperate to know more about me." Buffy looks at her friends. They don't see the harm in exploiting this possible opportunity. So Buffy goes over to the bar with Nina. The rest of the gang is pretty shaken by the encounter. And a little perplexed.

"Is it just me, or was she hitting on Willow?," Xander asks.

"She was doing the same thing last night," Willow explains. "It's her lame way of trying to get under my skin."

"Then what's her deal with Rupert?," Spike wonders. He thinks this woman's clearly insane to overlook him and fixate on Giles.

"She said he was handsome," Anya responds. "That's just stating a fact. It in no way means she has a thing for him. Though I'm surprised she completely ignored you, Xander. Her being evil and all."

"I must be losing my touch."

"What will it be?," Nina asks Buffy as they sit on their bar stools.

"What part of I hate you because you kill people I care about' don't you understand?," Buffy shoots back.

Nina gets the bartender's attention, which isn't hard. "White wine for the lady. And another round for everyone over there. On me." While she talked, Nina stared into the bartender's eyes. He gave Buffy her drink, and had a waitress bring refills to Buffy's friends. He doesn't even think of asking for payment. "Men," Nina jokes to Buffy. "You can make them do anything you want. But there's so few who are worthy. The humans are so underwhelming. What's a girl to do? I already tried a vampire last night. Five hundred years old. Supposed to be the most famous one in this world. Goes by Son of the Dragon, Dragon Son, something like that. Showed me around a place called Bucharest. You ever heard of it? It's supposed to be the capital of some nation, which I guess is supposed to make it important. He went on-and-on about how he built half the town when he was king, like that was supposed to impress me. Said things like "You and I, we are not so different." Who dumb's a girl gotta be to fall for that?," Nina asks before laughing a little. "Then we finally got to the good part, and it wasn't even that good. Vampire couldn't handle me! Said I squeezed too hard and broke his hip. Whatta wimp. You ever see a tall, skinny vampire with long black hair and high cheekbones who walks with a limp, tell him Nina says he cries like a little boy after climax. Though the crying coulda been because of the fractured pelvis, not his meager performance. You think a guy with the name of Dragon Son would have SOME power. That's our curse: we're too good to find a man who deserves us."

"Are you actually trying to bond with me? It's just so, eerily, desperate."

"Why? I hate demons. I kill them. I fight and fight again and again, and I always win. Still, it never seems to make a difference. I'm never free. After a while, you only do it out of habit. I've always won, I'm very competitive, so I don't want to lose. I don't want to break my streak. That's why I fight. That, and the fact that the only other option I have is to not exist."

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you signed up. And, not to be condescending, but the First Evil doesn't seem like the right place for someone who hates demons."

"That's where you're wrong. We use demons. But only as fodder. We exploit them to achieve our goals. One of those goals being, ironically enough, the annihilation of all demon races in this dimension. Demons are a short cut. They're evil by nature. No free will. Once you have the humans on your side, you don't need them. I'm going to finish your work in this dimension. Once you're no longer standing in my way."

"That's your big plan? Become a Slayer imposter by knocking off all the real Slayers?"

"I'm much more more powerful than a Slayer. And I lack your human disabilities. I don't eat. I don't sleep. I can go anywhere I want, anytime I want." Nina disappears. Five seconds later, she reappears on her bar stool. "It's raining in Tokyo. Sushi?" She slides the food along the bar over to Buffy, who pushes it into the trash. "Usually, Seth plays the bad guy and I play the good guy. When's the enemy's extra tough, like yourself, I have to play both bad guy and good guy. Which is easy, because before I become the hero, I kill all the people who think I'm the villain. But then, my work done, I die. Until the next job. So, as you might guess, I like to stretch out each gig as long as possible. Take time to savoy the joys of existence."

"Why not? Everyone loves the joy of evil triumphing over good. Okay. I get it. You want me to think you're not evil."

"I'm not. And Seth isn't. We didn't have a choice. Live was peaceful, and everyone was happy. No death. No hatred. No poverty or disease. The way life's supposed to be. But then they came. By the thousands and millions. Too many demons for us to hold back. They destroyed our world. Killed everyone I cared about. Except for Seth and my. We were the last. Too brave, to determined to give up, even when we knew our world was past saving. That was why we were rescued."

"Let's call this what is. You made a deal with the Devil to live forever."

"Not the Devil. One of the Primals."

"Yes. The evil one. Don't act like you're some innocent victim of circumstance."

"Don't you get it? We would have loved to work for the Forces of Good. But they weren't there to help us. They didn't lift a hand when my parents were ripped apart by those awful abominations. When have they ever helped you?"

"My friends and I, we help ourselves. You whine about how unfair the world is while you're trying to make it even more unfair. You had a choice. If you weren't evil, then you would have refused their offer. But you didn't."

"You know what's worse than Evil? Chaos. That's the state of things in most dimensions. Mindless cruelty. Senseless oppression. I leave people happier. I make sure the weak are protected. I give them security. I take away their suffering. Used to be that ninety nine out of a hundred dimensions was what you'd call a nightmare. A hell dimension. I change that. Let me put it this way: if you learned that you were being sent to another dimension, you would pray to end up in one that I've been to."

"Well then. Clearly you should be cleaning up one of those. Because, in case you haven't noticed, this planet may have problems, but it's not a hell dimension."

"Chalk that one up to unintended consequences. It's my fault I'm here. I love killing false gods."

"And how exactly do you do that?"

"By killing all of their followers. Without anyone to worship them, a false god cannot exist. There was a war amongst a triumvirate. I was sent in to help two gods defeat a third. I couldn't quite understand why. But it meant I got to kill a whole lotta demons, so I was totally on bored. I'll never forget the god's face right before I killed her. I held her last worshipper's head in between my hands. Then I crushed it. I do believe I saw her cry. Nothing like making a god cry. Only yesterday did I found out what was going on. My boss wanted to send her here, in a rather unflattering human package, if I may say so. I thought I was killing her, not setting her loose in another world. I am truly sorry for setting her upon you. On the other hand, I did give you a sister. You might even say that I'm her real mother!"

Buffy slaps Nina in the face. "Get out."

"Can you hit me again?," Nina asks mischievously. "I liked it."

Buffy stands up. "You say you've never lost. This is where your streak ends."

"I always die. Killing me won't actually kill' me. It will keep me from coming back here. Course, they same thing will happen if I win. So your threats are both empty and idle."

"You didn't let me finish. I'll make it quick, and largely painless. Unless you come after my family. Then you'll curse your master for sending you after me."

"Why would I come after your family? I can only kill the people who matter. When your boo-boos are healed, you'll know where to find me. Sorry, you won't. But I'll know where to find you." Nina goes back out onto the dance floor. Buffy sits there for a couple seconds, stewing in her own juices, before heading over to her friends.

NEXT: Mal achieves several smashing victories. And one minor defeat.


	26. From Above You, He Devours

Mal paces back and forth in the well of the theater, pouring over maps and intelligence reports. Vampires constantly approach with questions and information. Mal appears to listen, talk, read and write all at the same time. Then Lou comes running down the aisle. Mal looks his way, and the other vampires move aside as Lou approaches.

"Gang bangers think we playin' favorites," Lou announces.

"I killed six Latin Kings last night. Didn't that balance the scales?," Mal asks.

"That's not it. Crips say you favorin' the Bloods."

"Bloods are red, Crips are blue, right?," Mal asks to make sure. That's what he called them before he knew their names, so he's stuck with it. Lou plays along.

"You iced the Blue's leader last night. You ain't taken out any big-time Reds."

"You're right. I have made an oversight. But we will correct that. Bring me the new leader of the Blues. Tell him I will make the leader of the Reds to pay me blood tribute."

"He's gonna pay you in Bloods?," Lou asks. Mal gets the pun. He doesn't like wordplay.

"Just bring him. The rest of you, find out where I can find the head Red. I need that information by the time Lou returns. Try not kill anyone. You can eat on your own time." Dozens of vampires race out every exit. They know that not giving Mal what he needs will result in a massacre. Or, as Mal has threatened on more than one occasion, he'll delegate and let his demon-hunting enemies use the unlucky vamps for target practice. Alone at last, Mal gets back to work on deployment, expansion and the new chain-of-command. He wants everything to be in place before he kills the Los Angeles vampires' two most-feared enemies.

While Buffy's at the Bronze, Dawn, who's up in her room, gets a call from Connor.

"Let's go away," Connor abruptly suggests early in the conversation.

"When?," Dawn asks, thinking he's talking about the distant future, or the summer at the earliest.

"Now. Don't you ever want to do that?"

"Connor, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're not telling me something."

"Fine. But it's nothing new. Just the same old stuff. I always fight to stay alive. And nothing really ever gets better. Just more pain. That's all there's ever been."

"No. It's different now. You fight so other people can be alive. Do you have any idea how many lives you've saved?"

"But they still keep dying. I can't change that."

"Fine. You're right. Evil keeps popping its head up. You knock it down in one place, it sprouts up somewhere else. But things would be so much worse without you. The demons would win by default."

"World's been around a long time. Demons never won before I got here. It's not like I was needed. Except by you. You need me, right?"

"Of course. I mean, I love you."

"So why don't we leave? Go somewhere quieter. We'll be happy. No one will miss me."

"You can't run away from your problems."

"They're not my problems. They're somebody else's. I'm a stranger here. I never belonged."

"This isn't the man I love."

"What!? Now you're just giving up on me, like everyone else?"

"You're giving up on yourself. And the scariest thing is, you won't even tell me why."

"Because nothing's changed. The only time things were different, the only time they were better, was when I was with you. Since I came back here, it's been the same old stuff."

"So what? The demons don't give up, and you do? You're just gonna let them beat you? Come on, lover. That's not you. That's not my Destroyer." Dawn's trying to boost his spirits, get his blood flowing again. It works.

"You're right. I belong here. They don't. Time I started setting them straight."

"You mean it's time you and ANGEL set them straight. It's always easier when another super hero's got your back."

"That's true. It is easier that way. Thanks, lover. Every time I'm down, you always bring me back up."

After Connor gets off the phone, he runs down the stairs to the second floor balcony, then leaps into the empty lobby before walking out the door. "It is easier with Angel. But I'll find a way to get the job done without him." Dawn didn't quite understand that she had brought Connor out of his malaise by re-awakening his dark side. If she were there, she could have seen it in his eyes and nipped it in the bud. One of the perils of a long-distance relationship.

Mal walks into a warehouse all alone. There's seven men in front of him. When he gets within thirty feet, six of them open fire, letting lose almost forty bullets in three seconds. Twenty-two of the bullets strike Mal. Eleven bounce off of him. The eleven which enter his body don't knock Mal down. They don't even really seem to hurt him. He flexes all of his muscles. Over the next five seconds, eleven bullets pop one-by-one out of his flesh and fall to the concrete floor. The six shooters, duly impressed, put away their guns. Lou enters with the new leader of the Crips. He was the lackey in the strip club whom Mal chose not to kill. The six Bloods pull out their guns yet again and point them at the one mortal enemy in the room who was, well, mortal.

"Put those noisy, useless things away, or I'll start killing," Mal warns.

"Chill," their leader commands. Two more Bloods enter.

"They're clean," one of them tells their boss about the new arrivals. He thinks about this. His adversary has walked into certain death with only Mal to protect him. And yet, Mal could just as easily kill this Crip, along with possibly every Blood in the building. He realizes that Mal must be up to something sophisticated. Something which wasn't going to result in the death of either gang leader. That was reassuring.

Mal begins his pitch. "It has been brought to my attention that, while I have killed your counterpart among the Blues, I have not killed you. Does that strike you as unfair?" The leader carefully thinks this question over before responding.

"It don't matter if I think it's unfair. Or if they think it's unfair. What matters is if you think it's unfair." Mal greatly appreciates the deference. Clearly this leader is a man whose life is worth sparing.

"I do. I really do. I suppose I could kill you right here and now. Wrong. I KNOW I could kill you right here and now. And there's nothing your men and their noise makers could do about it. We BOTH know that. However, I have come to the conclusion that killing you would be wrong." Mal smiles when he sees the look of relief on the gentleman's face. Now for the catch. "Instead, I will kill five members of your gang. You chose them. You counterpart approves." He does this to make sure the victims are neither too insignificant or too important. The Bloods do not like the catch. Mal didn't think they would. "In exchange, there will be peace. Peace between you and him. Peace between you and me. And if the police choose to violate this peace that I have worked so hard to build, I will kill them until they learn the same lesson you have learned, the same lesson he has learned. Your territory will also be defended against all competitors. If they chose to fight me, you will get THEIR territory."

"Nice dream ya got there," the leader responds to Mal's pitch. "Everyone makin' money. Nobody dyin'. And I guess you want a cut in exchange for your, peacemaking'?"

"I promise to take a little less money than I can. Also, I promise to take a lot fewer LIVES than I can." To say that Mal preferred to negotiate from a position of strength was clearly a gross understatement.

"And where does you takin' five of my soldiers fit into this dream?"

"You have a point. The five dead Reds are unnecessary. But you will hand them over."

"Like hell I will." He pulls out two very large pistols. The six men around him draw their weapons, as do the two Bloods keeping watch over Lou and the Crip. Not to be left out, Mal goes bumpy. There's something about a vampire with three inch teeth which demands respect. On top of that, he lets out a low, rumbling growl. After a few seconds, the leader puts both of his guns away. Mal smiles and returns to his human face.

"You're a very smart man. Is there a room where the two of you can work out this peace treaty?"

"We'll talk in there." The leaders of the gangs go into a room along the wall to the left of Mal. He and Lou are alone with the eight Bloods. They still have their weapons drawn. Lou's bumpy, as he was throughout the meeting. It's his way of showing he doesn't need to be packing, and that it's pointless to cap him.

"Are you hungry?," Lou casually asks Mal.

"I believe I am. But I was planning to grab a bite after this. Weren't you?"

"Yeah. But I just kept getting hungrier and hungrier. I think I need a snack right now."

"But we're guests," Mal replies, keeping up the tongue-in-cheek dialogue. "It would be very rude. These nice men would be very upset."

"Who do you think would be most upset?," Lou asks.

"I don't know. You're the hungry one."

"I think he would," Lou says, pointing to one Blood. "Or maybe he would," he adds, pointing to another. "I'm certain it would be him. No," Lou continues, flashing a grin. "I am certain they would all object quite fiercely."

"Some much less fiercely than others, if experience is any guide," Mal replies. "Would you mind sharing?"

"Not at all. It would be rude not to."

"Good. Because I too am quite famished. And our hosts did forget to provide refreshments. I do hate it when they have nothing to offer me."

By now, the eight Bloods have taken the hint and fled the premises. Mal and Lou laugh. A few minutes later, the leaders return. The Blood is not happy to be missing his bodyguards. Mal goes outside with the leader and brings them back in. The eight men serve as hostages while their boss and Lou round up the five agreed-upon sacrifices. Of course, he doesn't tell them the truth. Instead, he leads the five unfortunates to a parking lot and abandons them just before Mal leaps out and devours his blood tribute. The Crip leader watches, just as he watched Mal kill his leader and second-in-command the night before. Now that the scales have been balances, the Crip heads off. Having put the fear of Mal in both leaders' hearts, he walks off with Lou.

"They really seemed excited about you takin' care of the cops," Lou notes approvingly.

"We are entirely beyond the law. That is our advantage over the mortals when it comes to these matters. They simply cannot compete. He gave one hundred thousand cash. Is that a lot?"

"100 G's? Hell yeah! And the jewelry the Crip guy gave you's worth 200. Though if you pawned it you'd probably only get 100 large."

"Two hundred thousand in currency. Will that be enough to cover operational expenses for this week?"

"Unless you're planning on springing for some choppers."

"Good. There will be much more money in the future. We have yet go after shops and businesses. Night clubs look like an easy target. Make them pay up or I massacre their patrons."

"You really got this extortion thing down."

"There's a lot more to it than that. At first everyone pays out of fear. But later, they pay out of gratitude. Pretty soon, the only murders in this city will be committed by us. To succeed in life, the people who love you must outnumber the people who hate you. You can only eat a tiny portion of the human population in a metropolis such as this. Let most of the people know you will never hurt them. Help them out, and when you are in danger, they will help you out."

"So we gonna start frontin' like we good guys?"

"Not it. It' smart. No point in making people you can't ever kill hate you. But in this town, it's especially smart. We defend the outcasts. We," now Mal starts chuckling. "We help the helpless!" Both of them laugh.

"We steal Angel's fans."

"We can help them in ways he cannot. What's more, we see the big picture. He goes one person at a time. We impress whole communities."

"This why you're doin' the thing with the hookers?"

"In part. I also detest pimps."

"Then why'd you make yourself head pimp?"

"You bring the water slowly to a boil so the animal doesn't know it's being cooked until it's too late. First I promise them security. I pledge to protect them, their women, and their customers from the police. In exchange for a cut."

"And when they refused, you ripped off their, you know, and shove it down their throat."

"It makes an impression on the others. But once I can provide security, the pimps become redundant. Those who fail to notice this are eliminated. The women are freed. In exchange, I receive one-tenth of their earnings."

"Piece of advice, Mal: round here you could take triple that and still be seen as generous."

"It's not about the money. It's about the women. If I am ensuring that they aren't attacked vampires, or by men for that matter, our enemies lose chances to be heroes. What will the heroes do when the outcasts they have always helped no longer need their protection?"

"So who do we feed off?"

"The wealthy and the powerful. The smart ones will pay to keep us away. The foolish ones will send their useless bodyguards after us. Which merely provides us with that much more blood to drink. Before long, the town is ours. The powerless love us. And the powerful fear us."

"You hear of a law firm called Wolfram & Hart? They think they run all the bad stuff in L.A."

"No, I haven't. But whatever they are, I sure we'll be more efficient. Let's say you're a powerful human criminal. Or someone powerful yet legitimate. You have to choose between us and them. You pick us. Because you know we can kill you faster than the other guys. That's all it takes. Fear is the root of all behavior."

"Good to have you back home," someone Gunn used to roll with tells him.

"Good to be back," Gunn replies. Morale is high. Too high, Charles fears. "I know ya'al have heard rumors about how great this vampire is. The rumors are wrong. He's better. Mal is stronger and faster than anything you've ever seen. If you let your guard down for even a second, he'll take your head off. I ain't exaggeratin'. It's happened. We need to be faster and stronger than him. We move fast and we back each other up. Mal tries to attack one car, someone else comes at him from behind or from the side. Be patient. Wear him down. Confuse him. And don't no one leave your ride until I've stepped out of mine. Once your feet are on the ground, you're playing by his rules. Let's make him play by ours."

After finishing his business in South Central, Mal ran up to Beverly Hills and took out the four people staying on the top floor of the Four Seasons. In addition to terrorizing the very well-to-do, Mal made off with a good amount of gold and diamond jewelry which he deposited back at the Orpheum. He continued south until he reached the neighborhood of Downey. This was where the working-class outer edge of the inner city met middle-class gentrification. Where Latino, white and black neighborhoods intersected. A few miles east of the ghetto, and a few miles south of the barrio. And right off the Long Beach Freeway. In other words, a perfect spot to draw the attention of the diverse assortment of demon fighters Mal hoped would be hounding him tonight. Mal needs to create a scene. Something they won't be able to miss. Problem is, this is L.A. No one's on the sidewalks. It's a residential area, so there aren't any large stores or restaurants. And everyone's at home. Someplace he can't get into. But Mal knows how to fix that.

He stands on the sidewalk in front of a particular home. He can hear the loud, animated chatter inside. They're eating dinner. At least four people. Maybe more. Mal prepares two molotov cocktails and lights them up. He tosses the first firebomb into the living room, across from the dining room. It goes up in flames, and he can hear the panic. They run into the kitchen and the hallway to find their fire extinguisher. Now that it's cleared, Mal hurls the second firebomb into the dining room. Within seconds, the entirety of the one-story ranch-style house is engulfed in flames. The family runs outside to escape the conflagration. Three small children, crying and terrified. Plus their mother, father and aunt. Mal kills the three adults. Then he walks away, leaving the children orphaned, homeless, but alive. He believed taking their lives was excessively cruel. However, it didn't occur to the soulless vampire that ruining those young lives he spared was also excessively cruel.

Fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, neck trauma – if this didn't get the demon hunters' attention, nothing would. Now, Mal had to prepare for the inevitable attack. He rushed up to a club two miles to the north. There was a line outside. Mal leaps over the people, lands next to the bouncer and drinks him dry. The people scream and run away. When he's finished with the bouncer, Mal chases after the mob and grabs a young couple, taking the back of the man's neck in his left hand and the back of the woman's in his right. He proceeds to suck the life out of the fellow while holding his hysterical girlfriend in the air. She has her back to Mal. She can't get a good view of what's happening to her boyfriend. The more mystery, the better for Mal. When she screams, he puts his right hand over her mouth and pulls her in towards his right shoulder. Once he's done with the fellow, Mal returns to his human face.

"No screaming, and I promise I won't kill you."

Mal uses alleys and side roads to carry the woman a half mile south. He leaps up and punches out a street light. She's at that point where she fears for her life, and even worse, she doesn't know what she's afraid of. Mal keeps her quiet and hangs back in a dark street corner, where the busted light provides extra cover. He's sure the White Hats raced to the fire and found evidence of a vampire attack, probably around the same time he bit that bouncer. Then perhaps they'd pick up something about the chaos at the club a little to the north. (Other vampires told Mal about how the good guys used police scanners to learn about vampire attacks.) So now they'd be heading his way. Hopefully, they'd be there any minute now. Mal hates spending long stretches of time with petrified humans. He'd rather kill them right away than get off on their fear. Lucky for him, he only has to wait three minutes for the cavalry to arrive.

Because of all the mass killings over the previous two nights, especially the numerous murders of people riding in automobiles, folks are staying home on this Tuesday night even more than usual. This leaves the residential streets more deserted than usual. Which allows Gunn to lead his men in squadron formation. Charles is front and center in his truck. Two more trucks are behind him on the left and right. Three more are behind them. The triangular formation allows the other five cars to easily follow Gunn. It also looks really impressive as they cruise in formation, keeping their eyes peeled for suspicious activity, and fully prepared to trample any enemy who was foolhardy enough to come on out into the street. Six cars, twenty four men. Against one vampire. Gunn knew the odds were stacked against them.

Lurking in the shadows, Mal watches them drive up. When Gunn passes by, he leaps out onto the street behind Charles and to his left. He's holding the woman. When he lands, Mal lets go of her and jumps back to the sidewalk. The woman screams as a Ford Explorer bears down on her. The driver slams on his breaks and swerves to the right. He misses her. But his SUV overturns. Gunn spins around. The other four vehicles stop. While this occurs, Mal climbs onto the roof of a four-story building. Before torching the house, Mal left his bow and seven arrows up here. Now he goes to work. The first shot hits the gas tank of the overturned vehicle, causing it to explode. The second arrow smashes through the driver's side window of the car on the left of the back row. The point travels down through the driver's chest, rips though the seat and lodges itself in the chassis, leaving the driver impaled by a four foot arrow and screaming out in pain. The third arrow is aimed at a man standing on the flatbed of the truck in the center of the back row. He happens to be equipped with a flame-thrower. The flame-thrower isn't Gunn's. This guy made it himself a couple years back. He's proud of it, and thinks it would be helpful against a super-villain. Gunn agreed. But once the arrowhead smashes into the propane tank on his back, the poor guy goes up like a Roman Candle, immolated for all to see. The explosion knocks the man standing on his right to the ground, though he's not badly injured.

Once the overturned truck exploded, Gunn got out of his truck. He knew they'd be sitting ducks inside their vehicles. The other fighters follow suit. But it's hard to maintain order amidst the chaos. The fourth arrow is aimed at the driver in the back row on the far right. (Mal attacked the back row first to make sure the stragglers didn't beat a hasty retreat.) It passes through the driver's skull and into the lap of the man riding shotgun, pinning him to his seat and very nearly neutering him. The fifth shot is aimed at the Jeep Cherokee on the right side of the second row. All its occupants have escaped. Mal shoots one of them through the heart. Travelling with the force of a catapult projectile, the arrow sends the guy six feet backwards through the air and pins him to the driver's side passenger door. Gunn's spotted the shooter. Four men aim and fire their crossbows at Mal. Two bolts hit his chest, but they are fired from so far away that they bounce right off. Mal lets loose his sixth and final arrow. It enters the left eye of the crossbowman standing three feet to Gunn's left, exits out the back of his skull and passes through another man's right thigh before the iron point crashes into a manhole cover and becomes imbedded in it. The six shots were fired in fifteen seconds. That's all the time it took for Mal to go from being the prey to being the hunter.

In fairness to Gunn, he didn't know about Mal's super-bow. The newspaper reports didn't say how the Crips' leader had been killed. So Charles had no reason to suspect that Mal was in any position to devastate him with a barrage of sniper fire. Mal's killed seven and wounded two. But two men somehow managed to escape from the overturned Ford. So Gunn has fifteen fighters. He does his best to get them organized amidst the carnage. They form a compact body, which Charles front-and-center, wielding the battle ax Mal bent two nights ago, but which Gunn has found the time to repair. Mal drops his bow and sails to the ground. As he does this, the other fourteen fighters stand just as resolute as Gunn. They know Mal's too fast for escape to be an option.

When Mals' feet hit the asphalt, five men step forward and fire their crossbows from a distance of twenty feet. Mal catches one bolt in his right hand. One goes into his right pectoral. Another into his stomach. A third enters just underneath his sternum, while one shot, on its way to hitting the heart, bounces off Mal's sternum. Just like what happened to Cordy. The five men retreat behind their comrades and grab their hand-to-hand weapons. Mal throws the bolt in his right hand at Gunn, hitting him in the left foot. Forgetting about the pain, Gunn leads the attack. The hope is to surround and swarm Mal or, failing that, present too dense an array of weapons for Mal to break through. Once again, Mal utilizes the third dimension in ways his human adversaries cannot. He leaps twenty feet into the air, flies over the charging mass, and lands behind them. Now he can attack them in the rear. But Gunn is savvy enough to conduct a crude sort of wheeling maneuver so that, once again, his best men were in the front line facing Mal. The vampire flexes his abs and pecs, causing the three arrows to pop out of his chest. Angel needed to use his hands to pull arrows out of his body. So Gunn is slightly impressed. But only slightly.

"Okay. We get it. You're diesel," Gunn deadpans. "Why don't ya quit posing and come at us like a real man." Charles does find Mal's use of long-distance super-bows to be a tad unchivalrous. He prefers to settle things face-to-face. Better to have your neck snapped than get an arrow in the eye. At least with the neck-snapping, you know you had a chance to kill your enemy. Mal knew that Gunn would want such a head-on encounter. So he was determined to avoid it as long as possible.

"Dead men can't be real men," Mal impishly retorts, alluding to his winning is everything ideal. (Not to the fact that he's a dead guy, because Mal doesn't think vampires are dead.) Mal leaps diagonally, forward and to his right. Once again, he's avoided Gunn. Mal goes straight to work on the left flank, catching these fighters by surprise. He knocks one man back with a right roundhouse kick. Then he bobs in and out, avoiding their swords, axes and baseball bats, but unable to land another blow. Gunn takes advantage of Mal's gambit by enveloping him with the front-line fighters Mal was seeking to avoid. This is Gunn's other plan: pin Mal down, surround him and hope someone gets lucky. Mal leaps up and does a split kick, hitting a man on each side in the head. He lands a right hook kick to someone in front of him carrying a baseball bat, then ducks a sword slash coming at him from behind before elbowing the swordsman in the nose. But he gets hit by two baseball bats and a flail. Things are beginning to get dangerous. The fighters close to within five feet of Mal on all sides. He wasn't expecting them to work so well together. Evidently Gunn had given them a little training. Mal needs to fight his way out, and that requires a weapon.

While Mal is preoccupied with the shiny, sharp, decapitating ax and sword blades, a fighter steps up and thrusts a sharpened pool cue towards Mal's heart. He could smell wood from a few feet away, which was fortunate, since he didn't see the cue until it was nine inches from his heart, which might have been too late. Mal grabs the end of the stick with his left hand. And then it occurs to him. This is his weapon. It's longer than all the others. It could deliver quick, fatal stab wounds. And there was a certain amount of irony in a vampire killing humans with a wooden stake. Mal grabs the middle of the stick with his left hand and rips it out of the young man's hands. He swings it around like a helicopter propeller, coming at his adversaries with the thick end. They get a foot further back. Mal then steps towards the man he stole the weapon from and shoves the point into his chin and out the top of his head. Two men with swords swing at Mal from behind. He uses the cue to parry the flat edges of their swords before stabbing one through the neck and the other through the heart. His hands are far too quick for these mortals. As are his feet. Mal jumps up, does a forward flip and, when he's upside-down, drives the stake through the top of someone's head and down into their neck and chest. All that, and he pulls it out of the guy before landing on his feet.

Now he's broken out of the circle and caused several graphic and demoralizing split-second fatalities. But the remaining eleven men don't try to run. They know Mal will catch them. So they charge him en masse. Mal stakes two axmen in the chest before they can land their blows, hits a few guys in the face with the fat end, dodges the sharp weapons and kicks a few men to the ground. Charles comes at Mal with his ax above his head. Mal stabs for Gunn's heart. Gunn brings the ax down and blocks the blow. He then strikes the left side of Mal's face with the flat back side of the weapon. Mal takes the cue in his left hand and hurls it to the his right, like a javelin. It enters a man's mouth, and the front three feet come out the back of his head.

"Fight like men," Mal tells Gunn. "No weapons." Gunn takes two swings with his ax. Mal dodges both of them, then knocks Gunn down with a leaping left hook kick. He turns to face the other seven remaining fighters. Two-thirds of those who had attacked him were casualties. Now the rest start to break. They attack one-by-one. Mal tosses one, snaps another's neck, punches out a third. Gunn comes at Mal from behind. Mal sweeps his left foot back and cuts Gunn off at the knees. While Gunn's down, Mal takes his battle ax and raises it over his head, as if about to strike Gunn, or one of the other fighters. For the moment, they hold back. Mal merely hurls the weapon one block to the south. Now, finally, he goes bumpy. The six fighters on their feet are clearly frightened. As Gunn tries to get up, Mal kicks him in the stomach. Then he leaps at one of the young men, pins him to the ground and rips his throat out. The other fighters rush to stake or slash Mal from behind. But he's too quick. He gets up and moves out of the way before they can reach him. And instead of looking down at Mal, they're looking down at one of their friends, who's been mauled. Mal ducks under a man's sword, gets behind him and sinks his fangs deep into the guy's neck. Four of the remaining fighters are seriously considering flight by now. The fifth, being Gunn, is considering no such thing. He hobbles to Mal and lands a right hook to his face. Mal throws a right hook, but pulls back at the last instant. Having distracted Gunn with this fake, Mal decks him with a left hook. The other four fighters run south. Mal easily cuts them off. So they run back to Gunn and towards his car, which by now is the only possible means of escape. Mal cuts them off again. He nails one in the nose with a right jab, decks another with a left uppercut, takes down the third with a straight right kick and floors the fourth with a vicious left roundhouse kick. He drinks a little from two of them. Just enough to make them too weak to escape. But before he can touch the other two, Gunn hits Mal in the nose with two left jabs.

"Go!!," he orders. "Get the hell outta here!" Mal smiles. He likes the bravery.

"You are willing to die for strangers?," Mal asks before landing a right uppercut to Gunn's stomach and a left hook to his rib cage. He follows these up with a right roundhouse kick that puts Charles on his back. He's had just about all the punishment a non-Slayer, non-Connor mortal can take from Mal.

"Least I'd go down making a difference," Gunn responds as he struggles to rise to his feet.

"I would rather watch you die for people you love." Mal picks Charles up and hurls him southward. Gunn's body slams into the pavement and rolls for close to twenty feet before coming to a stop. The two young men have made good their escape. Mal has plenty of dead and near-dead bodies to drain. Gunn contemplates trying to save more lives, but realizes that would be futile. Slowly, Charles rises to his feet and limps into an alley. The problem is that Mal is between Gunn and his truck. He has no choice but to wait until Mal is finished feeding. For whatever reason, Mal does not overturn, or even touch, Gunn's wheels. Once Mal's gone, Gunn has to hobble past twenty one corpses. As he sits in his truck and starts the engine, Gunn realizes that he's in a lot of pain. But something in him insists this isn't over. He's not going to let Mal end it like this.

After feeding, Mal got his bow and one remaining arrow and headed north towards downtown. So does Charles. Meanwhile, Wesley loops around the center of town, waiting for Mal to return to his base after a night of feeding. Perhaps Gunn and Wes will end up working together after all.


	27. Getting Even

The chaos and bloodshed of the last few nights had made Gwen wish she still had her powers. Without them, she felt vulnerable. Earlier in the day, Gwen had thought of going to Angel to find out what he knew. But she decided against it, since there didn't seem to be anything apocalyptic or mystical about recent events. And, even without her old powers, Gwen was by no means helpless. Besides, none of the deaths were in her neighborhood. So she didn't see the harm in going out to a movie. Now she's on her way home, looking decidedly low-key by her standards. No makeup. Hair pulled back. Black jeans, red t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Except now. As she approaches her building, Gwen notices an unfamiliar man standing in front of the door.

"The train passes very near this building. Under that street at the end of the block. And every time I passed by, I could feel a slight tingle on the back of my neck."

Gwen assumes he's a mentally ill and possibly homeless. However, the fact that he's wearing very expensive-looking black pants, blue button-down shirt and black buttoned-up vest would tend to argue against that last assumption. Still, he clearly has problems. She walks up the stairs and tries to walk by him on the landing. Mal grabs her right forearm with his right hand and pushes her back so she's standing on the stairs again. Gwen gets nervous. She can tell from his grip that this guy's very strong. "What's your problem?," she asks with annoyance and fear. "You want my money? Is that what this is about?" Then Gwen notices that Mal has a gold Rolex on his right wrist. "Okay. It's probably not money you want." Now Gwen's really worried.

"I walked here last night. And I felt it. But not tonight. You know why? Because you weren't here. It's inside you." Gwen spins and tries to sweep Mal's legs with her left foot. Mal jumps in the air and lands a leaping right kick to her chest, knocking Gwen back down to the sidewalk. He jumps down after her. This was going to be more fun than he expected. Gwen tries a right roundhouse kick, which Mal blocks. He also blocks a right cross, left jab and right elbow. Mal grabs both her wrists. Gwen tries a right knee to the groin, but Mal kicks back her left foot, causing Gwen to lose her balance before she can land the blow, on account of not having a leg to stand on. She can tell this guy's good. "I didn't want to hurt you. But you left me no choice." Mal pushes Gwen thirty feet backwards and goes bumpy. She slams into the opposite wall. When she stands up, Gwen notices that her attacker is a vampire. "You put it in your head! How else am I supposed to get it?"

Gwen had worried about someone trying to get the gem which took away her powers. But she had put such worries behind her. This thing had been in lying around in Malta for two hundred years. If people didn't want it then, why would they want it now? The problem was, when the gem was outside of her body, it was inert. Now that it's in her brain, it's active and powerful. Mal could sense that power. He figured he could make a few new friends by selling it to some powerful mystic in another dimension. Gwen's pulse races. Mal hangs back, as if he's giving Gwen a chance to try to make it inside. Gwen races at him and tries a cartwheel kick. Mal moves to his right and avoids it. However, this lets Gwen get by him. But she's only halfway up the stairs before Mal grabs her and tosses Gwen into the middle of the street.

"The tragic thing about this is, I am really beginning to like you," Mal confesses. Gwen moves to Mal's left. He turns to face her, so that they're parallel to the building. Gwen leaps onto the stone banister and tries a flying right hook kick. Mal steps back, avoids the blow and then leaps up onto the landing, which is twelve feet away and four feet up, blocking Gwen's path to the door. "If there is any chance you can remove it on your own, please let me know before I am forced to kill you." Mal leaps down to the sidewalk. Gwen kicks Mal in the chest while he's in midair. She tries a right jab after he lands, but he blocks it. The same thing happens when Gwen spins around and attempts a left roundhouse punch. Mal grabs her right ankle when she tries to kick him in the groin. He throws her leg up, and she does a backwards hand spring. Mal claps.

"It's almost like dancing!," Mal exclaims. Gwen can tell he's getting off on the fight. Yet he hasn't even tried to punch her, which is very odd, considering how he keeps vowing to kill her.

"And I thought I was lonely," Gwen quips, trying to stall as she catches her breath. "You wanna kill me, go ahead. But don't make a whole evening out of it." Both of them hear the roar of an engine to Gwen's left and Mal's right. A truck's coming at them with its headlights off. Gwen dives for the door, rolls on the sidewalk and gets up. Mal jumps in the air. The truck passes under him. Gunn slams on the brakes. When he gets out, both Mal and Gwen are gone. He limps towards the door. No way he can climb five flights with an arrow still in his foot.

Mal rushed inside and leaped up the center of the stairwell, bounding from level-to-level. When Gwen gets to the fourth floor, one floor from her place, Mal comes out of nowhere and kicks her in the chest with his right foot. Gwen tumbles down a flight. She runs down another flight only to find Mal waiting for her on the third floor. He pushes her hard into the wall. "Relax. I have no interest in drinking your blood or abusing your body. I simply want to rip your head off and take what's inside." Gwen leaps over the railing and falls to the first floor. Mal sighs, asks himself "Why do even bother being polite?" and jumps down after her.

Gwen rushes outside. She sees the truck in the middle of the street. She leaps down the stairs and tries to run towards it, but Mal grabs her before she's taken two steps and spins Gwen around. "I promise it won't hurt." Mal leans in to bite through her spine in the back of her neck. But before he can do this, he feels a tug on his own neck. Gunn had snuck up behind Mal and wrapped a piece of piano wire around his neck. He pulls Mal away from Gwen as he tries to garrot the vampire.

"Shoulda taken me out when ya had the chance, overbite!," Gunn taunts. Mal hits Gunn twice in the mouth with his right elbow, causing Charles to let go of the wire. Mal turns around and decks Gunn with a left hook. Gwen hits the left side of Mal's face with a right hook kick. He grabs Gwen and throws her. When she hits the wall, her feet are five feet off the ground. Gwen tumbles down and lands a yard to the left of Gunn. The two of them can see that the wire is underneath Mal's skin. He slowly removes it, then sees the blood on his hands. Mal returns to his human face.

"You're not worth this," he tells Gwen before walking over to Gunn's truck. "Hope she's worth more to you that this," he says to Gunn right before he flips his truck over. Mal runs off. Gwen tries to recover from the shock, and from Mal's multiple tossings of her. She looks to her right.

"Omigod. Charles! Is that you?" Gunn looks to his left.

"You were expecting someone else?," he jokes.

"You mean Angel? I can't imagine him behind the wheel of a pickup."

"Are you okay?," Gunn asks, trying to play the hero.

"A whole lot better than you." Gwen gets up and looks Charles over. "Is that an arrow in your foot?"

"Sure is."

"You've had a rough night."

"Not as rough as some people." Gunn stands up.

"Come on in," Gwen suggests.

"Not like I can get home anytime soon," Gunn responds, referring to his overturned truck. He puts his right arm around her shoulders, she puts her left around his waist, and helps him inside. They take the freight elevator up.

"I going to take a wild guess and say he's the one who's been killing everybody."

"His name's Mal. He's 3,500 years old, give-or-take a century. Really powerful."

"I noticed. What's Angel doing about it?"

"Mal stuck him in another dimension. We've been on our own. Obviously that hasn't gone well."

"I'm not complaining."

Mal walks quickly down the street wearing a full-length brown leather coat to hide his bow, with the collar turned up to conceal his wound. He hated having his skin cut open almost to the level of a neurotic phobia. It made him feel light-headed and weak far past the purely physical effect of the wound. For all his seeming invincibility, Mal was a vampire scared by the sight of his own blood. This was why he had that magic healing potion on-hand to give to Angel. Mal reacted to injuries as if he thought he was a hemophiliac. Ironically enough, he happened to be one of the fastest-healing vampires around. The cut, which went all the way around his neck and a half-inch into his skin, would be gone in five minutes. But in his mind, Mal desperately needed blood. The light turns red. Mal walks into the street, drives his right arm through a passenger side window, grabs the terrified driver and pulls her out. He drags her over to the sidewalk and drains her while she screams. Normally, Mal wouldn't be this indiscreet. And he was violating his own rule about no killing within two miles of headquarters. But in his fevered, anxious state, Mal wasn't thinking about rules. Getting under Mal's skin was literally the one way to fracture his impossibly cool, infinitely self-assured demeanor.

The quick kill brightened his spirits. Mal starts to relax. However, the chaos this killing caused has tipped off Wesley. He drives past the intersection, sees the body, makes two left turns, drives north to within a block of the Orpheum, makes two more lefts and heads back south. To his right is his secretary Lillian. In the back seat are his employees Clifford and Roger. Wesley only wanted to take Clifford, but the other two insisted. They didn't much like cowering in their flats every night until Mal was killed. Besides, if Mal was as formidable as their employer claimed, they thought Wes and Cliff could use the backup. Mal can feel his skin mending. He puts down his collar and comforts himself with thoughts of his smashing victory. So what if Gunn saved Gem Girl? Mal had devoured twenty one of Gunn's soldiers before his eyes. Annihilated the city's demon fighters in a matter of minutes. Right after making himself master of a vast criminal underworld. Yes, this night was a tremendous success. And yes, Mal did have a neurotic, type-A personality. Though if you told him this, and tried to argue that his megalomania was caused by insecurity, he would literally rip your lungs out, all the while explaining how difficult a thing this is to do, and how few other vampires could do it.

Mal has no reason to recognize Wesley's car. He's never seen it before. And he's not bothering to watch the traffic, so he doesn't see Wesley inside the car. Which provides Wes with a perfect opening. When he's fifty feet in front of Mal, Wes swerves to the right and drives down the sidewalk. Catching Mal at one of his very rare moments of absent-mindedness, Wesley plows into the vampire, who only sees the car when it's twenty feet away and is too shocked to react. The impact knocks Mal fifteen feet back and onto the ground. Lillian puts her right arm out the window, aims her pistol and fires a tranquilizer dart. Mal puts up his left arm to block his chest, and the dart goes into his left forearm. Mal quickly gets up and runs away. Wesley pursues. Shocked drivers slow down and gawk at the unorthodox chase. Mal takes a right at the corner. Wesley plows through a bus stop and returns to the road, spinning his wheels as he accelerates into the turn. One hundred yards on, he realizes Mal has disappeared. Wesley slams on the brakes, and the four of them get out. He must be hiding. Several cars are parked along the right side of the street. Perhaps Mal's behind one of them. Wesley guesses it's the last one they passed. He inches behind the car while Cliff moves around the front. Just before they're about to trap Mal, he leaps over the vehicle, tosses the dart down into Lillian's left shoulder, does a mid-air flip and lands in the middle of the street. Wesley turns around, dashes towards Lillian as she collapses and points his two handguns at Mal. Before he can fire, Mal reaches out, grabs both of Wesley's wrists and pulls them apart, so the guns are not aimed at him. Two shots go by Mal. He head-butts Wesley and takes the firearms and Wesley falls down. Mal immediately aims them at Roger and Cliff. Cliff's holding a tranquilizer dart rifle. Roger has a crossbow. Mal sees Lillian on the ground.

"Was that supposed to be me? Good try. But I can't sleep. Now drop your weapons, and I won't shoot you," Mal commands. They can tell if they fire, he's quick enough to blow them away before the dart or the arrow could hit him. So they do as he says. Mal releases both clips, and they fall to the ground. "What did I tell you?" As this was happening Wesley slowly got up. He's fifteen feet to Roger's left. Slung around his shoulder is a shotgun. While the clips are falling, he aims the shotgun at Mal. The vampire points the gun is his right hand at Wes and shoots the shotgun out of Wesley's hands before he can fire. Clearly Mal's got the quicker draw. He turns to his right and walks towards Wesley.

"One in the chamber. You didn't think I knew that?" He points the gun in his left hand at Wesley's forehead. He looks to his left at Cliff and Roger. "Try anything, and I shoot him. But, if he dies, I let you live."

Wesley reaches his right hand into his pants pocket, pulls out his car keys and tosses them to Cliff. Wes can tell by the looks on their faces that they're not about to leave. "Take Lillian and go. I'll handle this. It's my fight."

Mal smiles and shakes his head. "You are just like Eurybades. Does he know you copy him?" Wesley takes offense at being called a Gunn wanna-be.

"Get out of here now. That's an order!," he commands his employees.

Mal moves the gun a little to the left and fires. The bullet whizzes two inches from Wesley's ear. Mal tosses both pistols behind him as he backs up and moves left towards Wesley's car. He looks at Roger and Clifford. "I let him live. Guess what happens to you?" Mal rushes to the driver's side of Wesley's car. Cliff picks up Lillian and along with Roger heads in the opposite direction, towards Wesley. He tells them to continue on to the intersection and escape, frantically attempting to explain why Mal won't kill him because of his connection to Angel. Mal overturns the vehicle. This gets them running. "You should know better!," Mal yells at Wesley as he gives chase. Wesley picks up his shotgun and aims. Just before he fires, the streaking vampire leans to the right. The pellets miss, and Mal clotheslines Wesley with his left arm. The rest of the gang doesn't get twenty feet. Mal kicks Cliff from behind, then leaps at Roger, knocking him down on his face. Mal quickly smashes Roger's skull open. Cliff drops Lillian, stands in front of her and brandishes a sword. When he swings it, Mal kicks his right foot up and across his body, knocking the sword out of Cliff's hands, grabbing him and spinning Cliff around. Before Cliff knows what's happened, Mal goes bumpy and has his fangs to Cliff's neck. Mal looks at Wesley, who's twenty five feet away and holding the shotgun. Right now, he wishes he was holding a rifle, on account of its greater precision. He can't kill Mal without killing Cliff. But maybe Mal doesn't know that.

"Drop your weapon, or you watch me drink your friend."

"What's to stop you from biting him once I drop it?," Wesley asks as he walks towards Mal.

"Good question. Nothing." Mal snaps Clifford's neck. Wesley fires. Mal tosses Cliff's body towards Wesley, making sure the corpse takes the pellets and knocks Wes on his back. Mal rushes over and grabs the shotgun. Wesley stands up and takes out a large dagger and a small stake. Mal spins around and puts Wes on his back with a left roundhouse kick. Then he swings the shotgun, hitting Wesley's head once with the back end of the weapon. Just enough to knock him out, but not enough to kill him. Mal drops the gun, picks Wesley up and hurls him through the air. He lands fifteen feet to the left of his overturned vehicle. Mal walks back to Wesley's dead or incapacitated employees. He looks back towards Wes.

"You have really boosted my spirits. For that, I'll do you a favor. You don't have to watch me feed on your friends." Mal can hear the cops a few blocks south at his previous killing. It won't be long before they come here. And he's decided he has better things to do tonight than kill cops. Once he's finished drinking, Mal climbs up a three story building and takes out his bow. He didn't hit Wes too hard. He should be regaining consciousness any moment now. Mal listens to the sirens as he waits. Within less than a minute, a groggy Wesley stands up. He saved an arrow for later precisely in case an opportunity like this came along. Mal fires. Wesley hears the high-pitched scream of the arrow coming towards him. It strikes his gas tank, which explodes. The force of the blast knocks Wesley back through the window of a storefront church across the street. Mal leaps down and struts towards Wesley. He slings his bow over his shoulder and pulls out a straight razor.

To Connor, it felt like the blackout all over again. The vampires were emboldened. They weren't feasting. Not yet, anyway. But they were hanging together in unusually large packs. Connor needed a way to counter their numerical superiority. Holtz had taught him the bare rudiments of bomb-making. So as he wondered the streets, Connor was looking for two things: something explosive, or, failing that, a few isolated vampires to dust. He isn't in a hurry. Like Angelus, Connor can be patient when he needs to be. After two hours of wandering, Connor comes upon a gas station in Century City. The attendant lies dead. Two vampires are busily filling up four thirty- gallon drums with gasoline. Mal sent out several teams to stockpile fuel for the big move tomorrow night. Connor's hit the jackpot. He sneaks up behind one vampire, takes out a dagger, and puts it in the back of the vampire's neck, severing his spine and turning him to dust before he knows exactly what's happened. Connor hurls a stake into the heart of the second vampire before he can even drop the pump. Connor realizes he may have made a big mistake. He opens the driver's side door and breathes a sigh of relief. They left the keys in the ignition. For the first time all evening, Connor smiles.

Fred paces back and forth in the lobby. Cordy runs down the stairs.

"Yep. Connor's gone too," Cordelia reports.

"Maybe they're together," Fred hopes.

"Connor's in lone wolf mode. And Charles and Wesley both seemed too alpha-male to team up tonight."

"They're gonna get themselves killed."

"I like to think that if Mal wanted us dead, we would already be in the ground."

"One can always hope. But there's other vampires. And what about the demons? Couldn't a few of them assume we've been doin' the demon killing, since we are, ya know, professional demon killers?"

"I can't believe those men. It's not enough that they head out on their own and foolishly risk their lives. Now they're making us have to do it."

This shocks Fred. "Cordy, I know you're dealin' with a lotta personal demons on account of all the things you did, or, ah mean, the things someone else did with your body, but this ain't the way to deal."

"You think I have a death wish? Please! Just because everything I work for keeps getting taken away from me doesn't mean I've given up on the future and turned into some crybuffy. I just feel stupid staying home and doing nothing while everyone else is out risking their lives."

"We could try to find them."

"Big city. And we can't track their smell." Fred starts to sob. "After everything I said, THAT's what makes you cry? I'm sorry. I wasn't even trying to be insensitive."

"I miss Angel."

"I do too." She thinks of hugging Fred, but doesn't since they've never been extremely close. She just pats her back a couple times. "There, there. Let it out. It's okay."

"You think he's . . . you know?"

"Dead? Dust? Absolutely not. This is Angel we're talking about.

"Who knows what Mal could be putting him through?"

"Angel's been to Hell and back. Literally. Not just one of those "hellish" dimensions. The real thing. Wherever Angel is now, it can't be worse than what he's already gone through."

Angel tumbles off the roof and slams into the rocks eighty feet below. His body rolls into the water. Angel stands up and finds himself waist-deep in the lagoon. He remembers what's in there, and runs back onto the land just in time to see a giant lamprey swim to the water's edge and miss him. Of all the ways to go, getting your guts sucked out by one of those monsters was near the bottom of Angel's list. More demons rush out of the gate and run towards Angel. There's too many to fight. There's nowhere on dry land to run to. He has to get back inside. Angel runs away from them until he finds a two foot-wide, eight foot-high slit in the wall that he can jump through. Angel makes his way into a twenty foot-wide central hallway that looks to run for at least two hundred feet. Flanking the hallway every fifteen feet are three feet-wide, thirty feet-high stone columns. Ten feet to the outside of either column is a wall. Twenty feet up between the columns are arched balconies running the length of the hall.

"That evil bastard really knows how to live in style," Angel concedes. Then he feels someone kick him in the back. Angel flies ten feet forward and falls on his face. He gets up, turns around and takes out his sword. The large, blue-ish demon wears metal gloves and forearm guards, as well has metal knee and elbow guards. He carries a three foot-long club which balloons out to eight inches-thick in the barrel. "That's a pretty big stick you got there." The demon swings for Angel's head. He ducks, but the demon then strikes him in the back. Angel falls on his knees, but grabs the beast's left leg and brings him down onto his back. Angel stands up and backs away, giving him room to react.

"Did the vampire bring you here, too?," Angel asks jokingly as the demon approaches. "We seem to have a common enemy. Which is why the fact that we're fighting each other, instead of both fighting him, is completely insane." The demon, who has three inches and about a hundred pounds on his opponent, hits Angel's face with a right hook kick, knocking him into one of the columns. "Okay. You're not much of a thinker. Which is too bad, because it means I have to kill you." Angel puts the sword away. Then next time the demon swings his bat, Angel grabs the barrel with both hands. It takes a lot of effort, but he stops it. Angel goes bumpy, leaps in the air and kicks the demon in the face. While he's on his back, Angel leaps on top and lands four punches to his opponent's face. The demon throws Angel off. When they both get up, Angel gets kicked in the chest. Then pounded in the ribs by the club. The demon slaps Angel's face with the back of his left hand, knocking him into another column. "Let me guess: another head-on charge." The demon rushes in and swings for Angel's face. He ducks, and the demon makes a good-sized dent in the column. Angel nails him in the back with a left hook kick, slams his face twice into the column, then throws the demon into the wall. "Now I know why he could enslave you." Angel ducks a left hook and lands a left jab, right cross and right uppercut. "You're so damn predictable!" The demon wraps his left hand around Angel's neck and brings the club in his right hand down onto Angel's skull. He falls to the ground, dazed.

"I really shoulda seen than one coming." The demon tries to stomp on Angel, but he rolls out of the way and stands up. "Last chance to hit it out of the park, Babe. But if you keep on swinging at every pitch within two feet of the plate, sooner or later I'm going to strike you out." The demon advances. Angel retreats. When the demon swings, Angel maneuvers so that a column is between him and the demon. "Probably sooner." When the demon comes over to his side, Angel goes to the other side. Angel moves out into the open, draws the demon towards him, then hides behind another column. He reaches his sword around the obstacle and slashes the demon's left hamstring. Angel then sneaks behind him. When the demon turns around, Angel hits him with a right hook kick. Angel blocks his left punch and lands a right hook. The demon swings his bat down, but Angel backs out of the way. Once the blow misses, Angel hits the demon in the chest with a straight right kick, knocking his back into a column. To avoid the club, Angel comes at the demon from his left. He swings his sword and cuts through the monster's neck. He also slices through the column.

The demon's head falls to the ground. A blue light comes out of the column where Angel's sword passed through it. "That shouldn't happen," he notes, referring to the second event. Suddenly, Angel is sucked down into the basement. The floor's dusty. The lighting is dim. That's to be expected. He hears something approaching. He can't see it, but it sounds quite large, and not at all friendly.

Cordy and Fred find themselves driving around, looking for their friends, or at least signs of demon activity which would have drawn their friends' attention.

"You're telling me you're not worried about Angel?," Fred asks.

"Of course I'm worried. But I'm nowhere near hopeless. This isn't the first time Angel's found himself in a strange and dangerous new dimension."

Kreon stands the royal hall on the citadel, looking down at the huts and hovels in the enemy's capital which he had captured one week ago. It's been nearly a year since Spike and Angel left. And here he is, leading an army two hundred miles from home. It had been a very busy year. And not just for him.

"How's my favorite brother?," Penelope asks. Kreon turns to see her and is overjoyed. "Why so shocked? I told you I'd find time to visit." She runs up to her brother and hugs him.

"It's been so long. This is great! How's Andrea?"

"You know her. Work, work, work. She's training the new recruits. Getting them ready for winter campaigning. Which, from the looks of it, you won't need to be doing."

"They came out and fought. Gave me a chance to destroy them. Guess I lucked out."

"You're not the only one."

"The three tribes surrendered already?"

"No. That's not what I mean. And that's not why I came here. I'm getting married."

Kreon's jaw practically drops to the floor. And it's about ten seconds before he remembers to breathe. "You're what!? Who?"

"Hiero." Kreon's face gets red and he looks like he's going to explode. Then he calms down.

"Is this a joke? It's a joke, right? That's a good one. You marrying Hiero. Very funny, sis." She takes her brother's hands and looks him in the eye.

"We're in love. He's crazy about me."

Kreon lets go of Penelope's hands and starts pacing back and forth. "This is why you requested the transfer. This is why you wanted to go up north to Lauron. So you two could be together. So you two could - " Kreon punches the wooden wall with his right hand.

"I went because that's where my forces were needed. Without us, his army could have been cut apart in the forests."

"They are slow and lumbering, like their hero."

"I wasn't expecting this to happen. But we just kept getting closer and closer. And then, two weeks ago, I was about to storm this fortress. And he didn't want me to go. He said he was afraid something might happen, and he didn't want to live without me in his life. He said he loved me. So I suggested with storm it together. But most of his forces were out foraging. And by the time they got back, it was getting dark, so we put it off until the next day. But then, in the morning, they agreed to surrender if we spared their lives. So the whole thing was moot, except for what it made him say. That night, we talking about how we felt about each other. And about our future. And that's when he asked."

"You know that he has a reputation. He's very experienced. But not very loyal. You two haven't - "

"Of course not! You know me better than that."

"So that must why he wants to marry you."

"Hiero loves me. I know you can't believe it. Not yet. So lemme put it in a way you can understand: Hiero knows that if he ever hurt me, or betrayed me, I could kill him, and he's not strong enough to stop me."

This makes Kreon crack a small smile. "Not if I got to him first."

"You see. It has to be love." Kreon ponders this point.

"Maybe it is. Maybe be does. But how could you love Hiero? He's not good enough for you. Not even close. And you know how he feels about Spike. How could you possibly love someone who hates Spike?"

"Hiero does not hate Spike."

"He loves Angel. Isn't that the same thing?" To Kreon, this is the equivalent of a mixed marriage.

"Hiero understands that we never would have met if it wasn't for Spike. He can't hate someone who helped bring us together."

"Spike sure as hell didn't mean to. Do you know what he'd say to you right now?"

"Probably something with the word bloody' in it a whole buncha times." They both laugh. "But Spike knew that a man could change, could become better. And he'd see that Hiero has. Just like you will."

"He's here? Just bloody' perfect." Penelope giggles. She always finds it funny when Kreon apes Spike's lingo. "You brought Baby Angel all the way here to rub my nose in it?"

"No. He's here to get you approval."

"My approval? You mean I can stop this thing?"

"Since dad's dead, you're the one who has to give me away."

"What if I say no?"

"You won't. Give him a chance."

"To rain on my bloody parade? It's not enough he comes here to steal my glory. Now he wants to steal my sister."

"No weapons."

"Oh cum on! I'm not gonna kill the bloke."

Penelope laughs. But then gets back to business. "Seriously."

"I'm not armed."

"Your dagger?"

Kreon pulls it out from the back of his belt. It has an eight inch-long, two inch-wide blade. "You mean this little thing? I only use this for dinner." Penelope rolls her eyes. Kreon sighs and hands her the weapon. She leaves the hall and goes outside, where Hiero's waiting. She pleads with him to be civil. He gives her a quick kiss on the lips, takes off Angel's gold crown and puts it on her head. Then he enters the hall. Kreon's wearing Spike's silver diadem. He's standing up much straighter than usual, staring up into the distance, looking as imperious as possible. Hiero puts his head down, walks up to Kreon, gets down on one knee to pay homage, and kisses a ring on Kreon's right hand. Kreon sneers, as if Hiero's not worthy. Hiero looks up at him.

"I think it's obvious that I love her. Why else would I EVER do this?" After breaking the ice, he stands up. "Seriously, congratulations on your victory. Outnumbered three-to-two, and it's the other guy's army that gets crushed. I have to hand to you."

"Couldn't have done it better yourself?," Kreon asks.

"Oh grow up!," Hiero shoots back. A couple seconds of deference was all he could manage. "I don't understand how you can be so immature. Penelope's two years younger than you, and you're the one who acts like a child. And yet she worships you. You're her hero. The guy who can do no wrong, who's never made a mistake. There must be something inside you that I'm not seeing. Because if Penelope sees it, then it has to be real."

"Is this the part where you're going to tell me she's the most amazing woman you've ever met?," Kreon asks, still not taking Hiero seriously.

"Because she is! Ever since we met, she's all I can think about. Penelope's not just the only woman I've ever loved. She's the only woman I could ever love. She's my Buffy."

Kreon scoffs at the notion. "But you're not her Spike."

"I know. I'm her An – " Kreon shoves Hiero into the wall and holds him there, looking furious. This is why Penelope took the knife away.

"Don't you dare say it," Kreon warns. Hiero laughs, trying to make light of their thorny little "theological" dispute.

"Careful. She loves us both. Which means from now on we'll have get along."

Kreon lets go of Hiero and walks away. "Bloody hell."

"Tell me about it. It's almost like I'm becoming a member of your family." Kreon gasps when he hears this.

Cordelia drive east on Wilshire Boulevard, heading towards downtown. That's where Mal lives, so they figure that's where their men have most likely gone. Halfway between their home and Mal's home, a station wagon passes them going the other way. Cordy's head whips to the left.

"What's the matter?," Fred asks.

"Nothing," Cordy responds, getting her eyes back on the road. "I must be so worried I'm seeing things. I coulda sworn Connor was driving that Taurus."


	28. Firestarter

Gwen puts the moves on Gunn. Wes puts the moves on Fred. Anya thinks she knows what Nina is. And Connor returns to his nihilistic roots.

This was Connor's first time behind the wheel. He had played a number of driving video games at the arcade, which he believed gave him some sense of what driving was like. Actual driving felt somewhat easier, especially since he was staying off the freeways. Also, it was around eleven at night, so there were fewer cars on the road than during the daytime. Connor headed up to North Hollywood, where there was a crowded and rowdy vampire bar he had passed by earlier in the evening. First, Connor lights up a small Snapple bottle filled with newspapers and gasoline and tosses it through the window. This causes a mild panic. Then, Connor lifts a thirty gallon drum of gasoline over his head and hurls it high in the air. The barrel crashes down through the roof of the one-story dive. Connor had expected an explosion. But the force of the impact caused the drum to burst, spilling fuel all over the floor. So instead of a loud explosion, the flames quickly and quietly spread throughout the building. This does not give Connor the visceral thrill of a big blast, but it does provide some satisfaction. Especially when he hears the screams of the burning vampires. Connor smiles, gets back in the car and drives away. He has a much bigger target in mind.

Cordy and Fred passed by the burnt-out wreck of Wesley's car and the spot where Mal killed the woman just before encountering Wes. Police were around both sights, and the car was too damaged for either of them to recognize that it had been Wesley's. Clearly Mal had been in the area rather recently. The rest of downtown seemed quiet, so Cordy turned south towards USC. When they stop at a light between the campus and Exposition Park, someone smashes the front passenger-side window and pulls Fred out of the car. She screams. Cordy grabs her crossbow and gets out. Fortunately, the vampire attacking Fred is not Mal. He holds her from behind and leans in to bite the right side of her neck. Winifred gives him a right elbow to the nose, a left elbow to the groin, pulls a stake out of her pocket with her right hand, then turns and stabs the vamp in the heart with a quick backhand motion. His stunned yellow and black eyes bug out, and he turns to dust. Another vampire rushes at Fred.

"Fred — Duck!," Cordelia blurts out. She's fifteen feet behind Fred and on the other side of the car. Fred crouches down, giving Cordy a clear shot at the advancing vampire's chest. She hits his heart and dusts him. Cordy runs over to Fred's side of the car. Two more vampires come at them. The two women stand back-to-back. A third vampire leaps down to the sidewalk from the top of an adjacent building.

"Don't bother with them," he tells the other two. "Remember what Mal said: No meal is worth dying for." The three vampires run off.

"Hey! Get back here!," Cordy yells. "What about my window? You think I'm just going to let you undead jerks get away with that?" She looks at Fred. "Get in the car. We're chasing them down."

Fred is still catching her breath and recovering from the near-death scare. "Let's go home. They're vampires. I doubt you'd get any money out of 'em. Besides, they could lead us to Mal."

"You think he'd pay?"

"I think he'd bite." Cordy comes to her senses and puts things in perspective.

"You're right. We did good. And did you see how afraid they were of the two of us?"

"Almost as much as we were were of them."

"No. More afraid. They ran. Do you know what this means? We have the power to intimidate. By our champion-less selves."

"You're right," Fred says with a smile as they climb back into the car. "We kick ass. And the demons know it."

"I don't remember any vampires running away from Buffy."

Fred sighs. "I only wish Charles and Wesley had been here to see it."

"As if those two didn't have the hots for you already. Forget about the vampires. If Gunn and Wes saw your little Slayer moment, right now you'd be fighting them off with a stick."

"Better than worryin' if they're dead."

"They're fine, Fred. I'm sure they'll be home real soon. Maybe they're already back. Probably didn't even find Mal."

Wesley wakes up in the alley behind the church he flew into. His shotgun and his two pistols were in his lap. Mal had dropped him off (with weapons) a half-block south of the blast, so the police wouldn't disturb him. Wesley grabs the top of his head. Mal's blow left him with a splitting headache. Then he remembers what happened to his friends and employees. Wesley feels devastated. Then he tries to figure out what to do next. He's without a car, more than five miles from home, and heavily armed. (Though he has no ammo and Mal took all the cartridges out of the shotgun.) This makes it difficult for him to find a ride without attracting attention. He stuffs the pistols in his jacket pockets and slings the shotgun over his shoulder and underneath his jacket. Wesley heads a few blocks east, away from the street where he ran over Mal. Then he hails a cab, gets in and tells the driver to take him to the Hyperion. He wants to check in with the others before heading home. The driver keeps looking at Wes through his rear-view mirror, making Wesley nervous.

"Rough night to be out," the driver says, making small-talk.

"I suppose so."

"There's been a lot of rough nights lately. Used to be you only had to worry about other drivers shooting you. Now they yank you right outta your car. Pretty scary stuff."

"I imagine it would be," Wesley responds, obviously not eager to talk.

"Strange thing is, whoever these freaks are, they don't go after public transportation. No cabs. No buses. No subways. So you should be safe in here."

"Good to know." This hadn't occurred to Wesley. The lack of subway killings was especially note-worthy, since the underground offered vampires live victims during the day, and because it was very hard for people to escape if they were attacked on a moving train. There had to be a reason for this. Wesley zoned-out and thought it over as the cabbie droned on.

"You in a hurry? I said, are you in a hurry? Hello?" Wesley's train of thought is broken.

"Sorry. What was that?," he asks the driver.

"I said I figured you was in a hurry. On account of not finishing shaving." Wesley assumes this is a comment on his normal, stubbled appearance. Then he turns to his right, looks out the window, and sees his reflection. While he was unconscious, Mal had shaven the left side of Wesley's face and neck. Half his face was smooth. The other half rough. And the dividing line was right down the middle. Wesley puts his left hand to his face. A few seconds later, Wesley feels something unusual in his front right pants pocket. He puts his right hand in and pulls out an old-fashioned straight razor with a six inch-long blade. Mal had this to his throat. That was certainly a horrifying thought. Even more unsettling was the idea that this vicious mass-killing vampire took the time to give him a clean, dry shave that didn't miss a whisker or leave a single nick. That certainly set new standards for gratuitously toying with victims. But it did confirm Wesley's belief that Mal was an obsessive perfectionist. Perhaps there was a way to exploit that trait. There had to be something about Mal they could exploit.

Gunn grits his teeth as he pulls the arrow out of his left foot, takes off his bloody shoe and sock and wraps a bandage around the wound. "You sure you don't want my help?," Gwen asks.

"You're already helping. Just by being here." Gunn finishes with his foot, puts it up on an ottoman, sits back in a leather chair in Gwen's study and puts an icebag on his head.

"It is my home," Gwen jokes.

"You know what I mean. Well, no you don't. Not the whole story."

"You mean the part about you trying to fill the hero void while Angel's gone, and doing a damn good job at it?"

"Good job?," Gunn asks with a rueful chuckle. "I've been a disaster."

"My head — the one that's still attacked to my body — says different."

"Saving you is the good news. The only good news. Bad news is there's a lot of other people I couldn't save."

"No one can save them all. Not even Angel. Not even close."

"But these were my men. And I led 'em to their deaths."

"I think I'm missing the paragraph before that sentence."

"Mal's targeting demon fighters. I brought 'em all together. Two dozen strong. We rode out a couple hours ago. Right, now me and two others are the only ones left breathing. He just took them out, one-by-one, all round me. Couldn't kill him. Couldn't stop him. Couldn't even hurt him."

"And what if they weren't with you? What would have happened then?"

"He'd take 'em out. But it would take longer. They'd be more spread out. Maybe most of 'em coulda lived to see tomorrow."

"And then what? Wouldn't it only be a matter of time?"

"They'd have a chance. A chance someone could kill him before it was their turn. A chance Mal would get bored and decide they ain't worth the trouble."

"You make it sound like Mal's unstoppable."

"He is."

"Wrong. You stopped him. You hurt him, and he ran away. He didn't try to make you pay. He just bolted. And I'm guessing this guy doesn't do that too often."

"I got lucky. It was an ambush. He wasn't expecting me."

"I thought I was the one who got lucky?," Gwen asks

"I'm pretty sure we both did." Gwen leans in and kisses Gunn for a few seconds before cautiously pulling back. This time, Gunn doesn't object.

Wesley's attack had worried Mal. Maybe there were still pockets of resistance. Perhaps the army of demon fighters was just from the south side of town. Mal decided to hit of few of the suspected demon hunter hideouts the local vampires had told him about. Nothing in Sherman Oaks. Ditto for Encino. So he headed in from the periphery, towards Westwood. That was where he got lucky. Mal leaps through the window of an abandoned loft in all his fanged-out glory. Two men in their late teens, a woman in her late teens, and a boy who couldn't be much more than fourteen grab their weapons and tell a dozen other people to get out. They rise off the floor, where they had been sleeping, and rush in fear for the exit.

"The people I don't want to kill run, and the people I want to kill stay behind. Curious," Mal muses. The four demon fighters did want to run, but they knew better than to turn their backs on a vampire. They backtrack and sidestep their way to the door. Mal rushes at them, leaps over them and lands in front of the door. The windows Mal entered through, the only other means of escape, are fifty feet to Mal's left.

"It's him," one of the older boys says to the older girl.

"Then you know what happens next," Mal responds. One young man swings his ax for Mal's neck. Mal ducks. The ax goes into the wall. Mal puts his right hand around the man's throat and snaps his neck. The young woman shrieks and swings her machete for Mal's left arm. He pulls that arm back, grabs her right wrist with his right hand, squeezes the wrist, causing her to drop the machete, and puts his left arm across her chest, holding her from behind. "Was he your man?," he asks the frightened woman in her right ear. "I'm sorry for your loss. Let me end your grief." Mal bites her neck. The woman cries out as she is drained. The other two rush towards the window. They're on the third floor, but not jumping would mean certain death. When they get to the window, Mal rushes up from behind, grabs them both, pulls them away from the window and hurls them to the ground. They get up and move away from Mal. He stays still for now. When they're twenty feet from him, the older guy takes out a Chinese throwing star that's four inches across. He flings it at Mal's neck. Mal grabs the star between his left thumb and index finger. He tosses it back, decapitating the young man. The boy runs as fast as he can to the door. Predictably, Mal cuts him off. The teenager holds a sharpened broom stick to defend himself. His eyes are tearing up. He knees shake, and he starts to wet his pants. Mal goes back to his human face.

"Did you live here?," Mal asks the child, who doesn't quite understand why the monster is talking to him. It takes him a few seconds to respond.

"Yeah. I did." He's so certain of death that he's talking in the past tense.

"Why?," Mal innocently asks, before going bumpy for a few seconds while he drains the young man with the broken neck. When he finishes, he returns to his human face and continues with his question as if he had just drunk a cup of coffee or done something else completely normal. "Don't you have a home? Don't you have parents?" The boy starts to worry the vampire is going to take him hostage or kill him slowly.

"No."

"Are they dead?"

"My dad is. My mom's in prison." This was getting terrifyingly surreal for the young man. Mal didn't seem to notice. He thought he was just having a nice, polite conversation. Meanwhile, he walks over to the decapitated body and sucks the man's blood out through the opening in the neck where his head had been. After he's drunk most of the blood, Mal turns the body upwards to get the rest out. The poor kid, his stomach already in knots, vomits at this disgusting and revolting sight. Mal drops the drained body, turns around and sees the vomit on the floor.

"Are you ill?" The boy doesn't answer. He feels like fainting. This is all just too much. "You're scared. Do I scare you? I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I only came here to hurt warriors. You are too young to be a warrior. Put down the stick. I said, put down the stick." The boy does as he is told. Like he could stop Mal with it anyway. "You should have a home. A real home." Mal reaches into his right pants pocket, pulls out a set of keys with a driver's license attached, and tosses it the boy. "I think the card tells you where the house is located. The keys will let you in. Go. It's empty." He reaches back into his right pocket, pulls out a half-dozen more sets of key and throws them towards the kid. They land on the floor around him. "Your friends, the ones who ran, they can use these ones, too. Tell them. Have a good night." Mal leaps back out the window, leaving the bewildered and overwhelmed kid all alone with the keys and the corpses.

After getting lost a few times, Connor found his way to El Monte, a private airport near the San Gabriel Valley that was about ten miles east of downtown and a few miles south of Wolfram & Hart. This was where the hangar was that Mal had displayed all his demon kills in. Connor assumed that meant it was a vampire hangout, and he was correct. More than fifty vampires were inside. The speakers blare out Ministry's "Just One Fix." Strobe lights caught the faces of the slayed and flayed demons. The shed was two hundred feet long, eighty feet wide and sixty feet high. Since no one in their right mind would attack so many vampires, they didn't have any guards outside. Connor parks about fifty yards from the hangar and gets out. His takes out a barrel and douses the passenger-side doors with gasoline. Then he fills up a small gas can, carries it over towards the south side of the hangar, and pours it out in a thirty foot-wide semicircle around the exit. Connor puts the barrel in the back of the station wagon with the other two, gets in the car, circles away from the building, then turns around and guns the engine. He pulls down the driver's-side window. When he gets close to the door, Connor flicks his lighter and tosses it to his left. Just after the car crashes through the door, the lighter hits the ground and ignites the semicircle outside.

The vampires are caught completely by surprise. Connor runs a few of them over as he veers right. He rubs the car up against the long west wall. As he drives, the sparks created by the car rubbing up against the metal wall ignite the gas Connor poured on that side of the vehicle. He runs over more vampires and crashes through the dj's booth. Connor stops about sixty feet from the north wall. He kicks off the door and gets out the vehicle as the flames spread. The vampires run away. Connor brandishes a small double-bladed hatchet in his left hand and an fifteen inch-long curved dagger in his right. He beheads three vampires as he rushes towards the east wall. He's fifty feet away from the car when it explodes with close to 100 gallons of gasoline inside. The blast hurls Connor into the wall opposite the car. It also knocks down dozens of vampires and immolates a few, as well as blowing a hole in the wall. Connor gets up and rushes to the north exit. The vampires who went to the south exit find the ring of fire and rush across to the opposite side of the building. Meanwhile, the flames rise up the remaining portion of the west wall, engulfing the wooden planks that buttressed the wall's thin metal skin. Within seconds, the fire's reached the roof.

Connor stands outside, fifteen feet in front the north exit, waiting for the vamps to come running. When they do, he lunges left and right, beheading a dozen. Another dozen manage to get by him. Then the west wall begins to buckle. It collapses inward, and the ceiling caves in. The fire spreads, and pretty soon the whole structure comes tumbling down. The rest of the vampires appear to have been burnt, crushed or both. No more make their way out. Connor proudly walks away from the destruction, silhouetted by the flames. He smiles and he speeds up to run down a few of the stragglers.

After talking to Nina, Buffy wanted to leave immediately so she could tell Giles what Nina said about herself. But Rona, Amanda and Madari wanted to spend more time with their boyfriends, and after all they'd been through Buffy wasn't going to object. When the Bronze closed at eleven, they all went home and got down to business. Buffy, Giles, Anya, Dawn, Willow, Xander, Spike and Faith sit around the dining room table.

"Can we get back to the part about her crushing Dracula's pelvis and making him cry?," Spike asks with a smile. "I know it doesn't help us, but it's just bloody hilarious. If I ever see that wanker again, we'll have so much to talk about."

"She says she hates demons," Xander notes. "Does that mean we should assume she isn't one?" For Xander, this would also explain why she wasn't attracted to him.

"Only if we assume she's telling the truth," Giles reminds them.

"She is," Buffy responds.

"How can you be sure?," Giles asks. "She is the enemy."

"Nina thinks there's no chance we can beat her. She's too cocky to lie. Also, she's lonely. Like she wants to hang out with us before she kills us."

"Who would want to socialize with their mortal enemies?," Willow asks. Everyone looks at Spike.

"Oh, cum on! You know bloody well that I only spent time with you sods because my life depended on it. It was either that or get captured and dissected. I may have hated you all, but I didn't hate you that much."

Dawn tries to focus on Nina's biology. "She doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep. She heals instantly."

"She feels like pudding," Spike adds, drawing confused looks. "Ah mean, her insides did, when I bit her. No blood. No fluids. It felt like some sort of gel."

"And she can teleport," Dawn concludes. "Do this add up to anything we know?"

"She could be a Titan," Anya suggests.

"I beg your pardon?," Giles asks.

"You've never heard of them? I thought everyone heard the story. Or, maybe it was just a demon thing."

"I've never heard of the bloody things," Spike tells Anya.

"I meant real demons. Not undead half-breeds. No offense." Then, Anya sighs and launches into her story, as if it's something she's heard dozens of times and is therefore bored with it. "Long, long ago, before the time of demons, there were the Titans. Though few in number, they were incredibly powerful and populated all the dimensions. The Titans were so powerful that they scorned the gods, who got mad and created demons to worship them. The multitudes of demons came in like an avalanche, overpowering and killing the Titans. Except, maybe, for these two."

"It fits with what she said," Buffy points out. "The demon-hating. All that stuff she said about false gods.' Watching her world get destroyed. It's all there." Giles was still not convinced.

"If Anya knew that story, why couldn't Nina? Perhaps she wants us to falsely believe she's some Titan, which, by the way, I've never come across in any of my books. Couldn't they be a figment of some demon creation myth?"

"The only problem is that Titans are supposed to be twelve feet tall," Anya responds. "Then again, when was the last time a demon saw one? They could have just assumed Titans were giants, on account of their name and their legendary strength. But this Nina woman looked to be Titan-strong with a human-size body."

"So the demons wiped them out," Faith reiterates. "Which means they can be killed. Which means we can kill her."

"It only means demons can kill her," Anya replies. "Hundreds and hundreds of demons."

"I'm almost certain there is nothing in our books about Titans," Giles points out.

"We don't have that many books," Dawn reminds him. "The Council library was blown up. You just grabbed what you could."

This gave Giles an idea. "Angel."

"You think Angel knows something we don't about these Titan things?," Spike asks, certain that if he doesn't know, then Angel doesn't know.

"Claude gave his books to Wesley. The remnants of the Council's library are being stored at Angel's home."

"What?," Xander asks with a certain amount of outrage. "Why does Angel have them? We're the ones fighting the First."

"Claude believed they'd be safer away from the Hellmouth. I'll go and visit Angel first thing tomorrow morning."

Dawn smiles. "So we're having a big research trip to the library. I guess I should come along and help. I'm sure you could use a research assistant."

"You have school," Buffy sternly reminds Dawn.

"Yeah. On top of a Hellmouth that could blow at any minute."

"Whereas, you'd feel much safer on top of Connor," Anya jokes. Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles cringe.

"Graphic as she is, Anya does make a valid point," Giles concedes. "Clearly, you would be . . . distracted. Too distracted to be of much help to me. I'll bring back any texts which might be of some use to us. Hopefully, I won't be getting in Angel's way. They do have a business of their own to run."

"Heaven help us if you kept him from finding some poor girl's lost little puppies," Spike derisively jokes.

Cordy and Fred arrive home and find Wes standing in the lobby.

"Wesley!," Fred exclaims as she runs up to him. "You're hurt." She looks at a big bump just above his right eye.

"Why did you shave half your face?," Cordy inquires, getting to what she considers newsworthy. "Is this an experiment, to see how you look each way?"

"Yeah. How did that happen?," Fred wonders.

"Mal killed my friends, destroyed my car, knocked me unconscious, and then went to work on my face with a razor."

"And all he did was shave you," Cordelia notes with astonishment. "Wouldn't the evil thing be to cut off one of your ears, or at least slash you up a bit?"

"That thought had occurred to me. Mal is nothing if not unpredictable."

Four men in their early thirties sit by the pool, drinking beer and making jokes. The property they are on is perched on a cliff. Ten feet from the far edge of the pool is a wire fence, beyond which is a one hundred foot sheer drop. Mal scales the cliff without much difficulty and jumps into the pool. One of the men thinks he heard something.

"Did you hear a splash?"

"What? You think a bird fell in?," the owner of the house wonders.

"That doesn't make sense," a third friend concludes.

"Look at the ripples," says the friend who heard the noise. "Something fell in there."

"Fine," the owner concedes. "We'll take a look." He turns on the pool light. The four of them gasp in shock when they see a man, face-down and motionless, at the bottom of the pool. "Oh my god."

"I think he's dead."

"Where did he come from?"

"This has got to be Gary," the owner suggests. "He's always pulling practical jokes. He probably hired this guy to freak us out."

Mal leaps out of the pool and towards the owner, who yells out in terror. Mal lands on top of him and knocks him out with a left hook to the face. The other three men run. Mal chases down one who tries to head back into the house. He grabs the man three feet from the sliding glass door and snaps his neck. The observant friend who heard the noise of Mal entering the pool takes off to Mal's right and sprints towards his black Porsche convertible. He presses a button on his key chain to unlock the doors. But when he grabs the door handle, Mal takes hold of him and bites the guy. When he finishes, Mal puts the keys in his own pocket. Then he returns poolside. The one surviving friend gets the owner to wake up. He says something horrible has happened, and one of their friends isn't moving and doesn't have a pulse. They slide the patio door open and begin to carry him inside. The friend is in, but the owner is on the doorstep. Mal grabs the owner's right leg, drags him away screaming and drains him. At this point, Mal doesn't know who the owner is. He knows it's not the guy who ran to his Porsche. Which means there's a two-thirds chance he can enter. Sure enough, Mal walks in uninvited. The final friend is dialing 911. Mal rips the phone out of his hand, smashes it, punches the guy out and carries him outside. He drains this guy, then bites the one whose neck he snapped. His feeding finished, Mal walks back into the house. It's spacious, with high ceilings, a large television and a stereo with big speakers. Looks like a good place to kick back. Mal sits on the couch and begins to struggle with the universal remote.

Owing to the dangers of being outside, as well as the fact that he lacks transportation, Wesley decides to spent the night in the hotel. For the time being, he's in Fred's room, talking. He already used one of Angel's razors to shave off the other side of his face. Fred and him are sitting on the couch in the office. It's a little after two in the morning.

"It feels strange," he confesses to Winifred. "And somehow unmanly."

"I don't think you look any less manly without your whiskers. Also, it's easier to kiss you. Ah mean it should be. Theoretically. Ah mean, I've heard that kissing a guy with whiskers can feel a bit like kissing sandpaper. So it could be a good thing. For Kelly. If she were here, or came here real soon. Since you two are, together. When you're not apart." Fred takes a deep breath once she's finished stammering.

"I suppose we are. Though she never said anything to that effect. And Kelly did mention that she often becomes briefly involved with men she's working with. The old combination of physical proximity and mortal peril."

"Yeah, we know all about that," Fred responds, still not sure where she's taking this conversation. "The peril. Speaking of which, do you worry about Angel?" Nothing like mentioning Angel to ruin the mood.

"Of course. But I know that taking an adversary to a foreign dimension in order to kill him is not part of Mal's modus operandi. And I know that time moves differently in other dimensions."

"Like Quor Toth, where a day here was a year there." Fred looks alarmed. "You don't think Angel's been alone for years?"

"Quite the contrary. For all we know, Angel's been gone for a matter of minutes. I don't believe the point of this was to hurt Angel. My sense is that Mal wanted Angel out of the picture long enough for him to drive us apart."

"Ya mean like what happened tonight?"

"The thought has crossed my mind. But if that was his intention, Mal failed. I'm back. And I'm sure the others will return shortly. We've learned our lesson."

"We can't beat Mal without Angel?"

"We can't beat Mal without each other. Cordelia had a point earlier."

"When she said Mal was stupid not to cut you up?"

"No. Earlier tonight she said that in order to win, you need to fight by the side of the people you love."

"You're right. That does make a lotta sense." Fred reaches her right hand out and touches Wesley's left cheek. "See. Doesn't feel so bad." Their heads slowly move towards each other. When their lips are about an inch apart, Connor bursts through the front door. Being in the office with the door open, Fred and Wes hear this and stand up to see what the noise is. Of all the times for Connor not to be stealthy.

"Connor!," a startled Fred exclaims as they walk towards him in the lobby.

"Back so soon," Wesley adds absent-mindedly, since he's still thinking about the kiss he almost had with Fred.

"Where are the others?," Connor asks with his usual terse bluntness.

"Cordy's upstairs, and Lorne's back at his place," Fred reports.

"What about Gunn?" There is a pause. Wesley looks a bit pained. As if Connor hadn't ruined the mood already, now he had to bring Charles into this.

"He's, ah, we think he's also at home," Fred stammers.

Connor turns and heads up the stairs without a word on what he's been up to. Wesley tries to think of something to say, now that they're alone again but completely out of the mood.

"I think its fair to say he didn't run into Mal tonight."

"Which probably means he didn't wanna," Fred responds. "Connor can track him, so I assume he could find Mal if that was his intention."

"Perhaps he's not as stubborn as we thought."

Cordy spots Connor in the hallway and talks with him as he enters his room.

"Where were you?"

"Out."

"You know what I mean."

"Look. No more bruises. I'm not hurt. So you should be happy."

"Relieved is more like it. What's that smell?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is that gasoline?"

"I killed two vamps at a gas station. Maybe some of it got on my clothes."

"It's more than that. What have you been up to?"

"Killing vampires. Not getting hurt. I'm gonna go shower. Now get out. Unless you wanna watch." Cordelia slaps Connor with her right hand. Connor smirks. "After what happened, shouldn't you be a little less comfortable around me?" Cordy decides not to slap him a second time and leaves.

NEXT: Giles pays a visit to war-torn Los Angeles. Nina meets Mal. And Angel finally gets past all the obstacles to returning home. Except, perhaps, for Sah-jhan. Mal loves to disprove prophecies.


	29. The Morning After: If There's Hell Below

Fred learns about Gunn and Gwen. The gang learns about Connor's pyromania. Giles learns what Nina is and tells the Scoobies. Plus, Mal and Nina size each other up as they beat each other up.

At about 6:45 in the morning, Wesley wakes up, puts on his pants and rushes downstairs to get the morning paper and check it for information about Mal's latest exploits. He carries a cup of coffee and the metro section back upstairs with him. As he gets to the room he is using, which is across the hall from Fred's room, she emerges, surprising Wesley. Remembering that he's not wearing a shirt, he feels a bit embarrassed. Wearing only shorts and a tank top, Fred also feels slightly uncomfortable about this overly domestic moment.

"I didn't expect anyone else to be up at this early hour," Wesley confesses.

"Yeah. Me too." Fred notices he has the paper. "Anything in there?"

"A few items of interest. It does seem that Mal laid off the cops and gangs last night. Which, unfortunately, means he had more time to devote to demon fighters."

"Charles!," Fred exclaims. "Is he back?"

"I-I didn't check. He wasn't downstairs. But, as I said, I didn't check. His name doesn't appear in the paper, which is a very good sign."

"I'm sure he came back and is still sleeping. Maybe I should go check – no, ah think I should put some clothes on first." Implying that she wasn't quite decent only made it more difficult for Wesley to take his eyes off her and get his heart to stop racing.

"Yes – clothes. A capital idea. I do seem to be lacking a shirt myself." Whether or not this was his intention, Wesley's comment made Fred look at him even more intently. She was aware that this was the first time they had seen each other first thing in the morning, semi-dressed and with bed-head.

"Really. Ah, umm, ah, I didn't even notice. I, think I should, be goin'." They both leave the hallway, enter their rooms, slam the door and hit the showers.

Two hours later and five miles away, Gunn wakes up in Gwen's bed. He rolls to the left and feels nothing. He opens his eyes and realizes Gwen isn't in the room. That's usually not a good sign. Gunn sits up in bed, feeling dejected. He checks the time. 8:49. His body still aches from the beating Mal gave him the night before. At least he assumes it's from that. And there's still a bump on his head, which definitely was from Mal. Plus, his bandaged left foot hurt when he tried to put it down on the floor. Two minutes after Gunn awoke, and as he was about to get out of bed, Gwen enters. She's wearing red leather pants, a black silk tank top and bright red lipstick. Her hair is teased out, though without the the highlights. It looked like she was returning most of the way to her electrified glam.

"Oh. You're up. I'm sorry. I thought you'd still be asleep. I was gonna wake you to say goodbye before I left."

"Good to know I was worth at least that," a somewhat peeved Gunn responds.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I don't have much experience these sorts of things. So I may be a little unsure about the etiquette of, you know - "

"One-night stands?"

"No! God no. You think that's what I thought this was? Is that what you think it is? Cause I thought it was incredible. You were great. I just got a meeting to go to."

"Ya got an early meeting? For someone without experience, you sure have the lines down pat."

"I really have a meeting. At nine. With a client. Well, a former client. That's why we're meeting. So I can explain the new situation to him. That's why I'm, well, dressed for work," Gwen adds with a smile.

"It's a damn good look for negotiating," Gunn concedes with a grin. "Hard to say no to."

Gwen laughs and sits on the bed next to Gunn. "Is that a request for next time?," she asks with raised eyebrows.

"Is that a request for there being a next time?"

"Good to know we no longer have our signals crossed." Gwen kisses Gunn a few times before feeling compelled by her business engagement to leave. Over at the Hyperion, Wesley, Winifred, Lorne and Cordelia sit around the lobby. All clothed, of course.

"I tried his apartment. No answer," Fred reports.

"The massacre reported in Downey appears to describe the demon fighters he was planning to lead," Wesley concludes. "That said, his name is not mentioned among the twenty or so who were killed. Which strongly indicates that he got away."

"But then why didn't he come back here?," Fred wonders.

"In case you forgot, last night things weren't exactly a love-in around here," Lorne points out. "And, if there was a bloodbath, I'm guessing he wasn't in the mood for any I-told-you-so's."

"Now this one doesn't sound like our bloodsucker," Cordelia announces with some concern. "A bar burned down. Five people dead. Police suspect arson." Right then, the gang is distracted as Gunn limps through the front door.

"Charles!," Fred exclaims as she stands up and runs to him. Naturally, this makes Gunn nervous. A hug really wouldn't feel right.

"Careful," he says with a nervous smile as she rushes up the steps. "I'm still a little busted up. Well, more than a little."

"Where were you? I tried your apartment."

"Woulda been hard to get back there after Mal trashed my ride. Which also was after he took out my mega-crew. Those damn arrows."

"He did the same to me," Wes offers as comfort.

"But in between those two things, I managed to get a teeny-tiny bit of payback. I followed Mal and found him attackin' Gwen. He wanted the jewel inside her head."

"Jewel?," Cordelia asks.

"What jewel," Fred reiterates.

"Actually, it's more of a charm," Wesley explains. "An ancient charm of immense value which also happens to take away Gwen's electrical powers."

"She's no longer zap-girl?," Cordelia asks, before quipping "Guess that means now she's only shocking people with her wardrobe."

"When did this happen?," an already suspicious Fred demands to know.

"Sometime between when Angel got his soul back and when Angel got kidnapped," Gunn answers. "She found it over in Malta."

"I'm sense we don't wanna know how it got in her head," Lorne concludes. "Does this mean she can turn her power on and off, or is it so long to super girl?"

"There isn't a switch," Gunn explains. "She's joined the normals."

"As if that's possible, even without the embarrassing electrocutions," Cordy cattily says to Fred, who also wasn't fond of Gwen.

"So Gwen's still alive?," Fred asks. "And you had something to do with this?"

"Piano wire around the neck. Mal never saw me comin'. Didn't come close to killin' him, but I did break the skin. Once Mal figured out he was bleeding, he freaked. Got the hell outta there."

Wesley ponders this as he paces back and forth. "I believe you've uncovered a weakness. Mal could have easily killed both of you." At first Gunn liked the compliment. But not the alternate scenario which resulted in his death. "Gwen had something he wanted. You had injured Mal. All the more reason for him to finish you off. But he won't continue fighting if he has an open wound." Then, Wesley gets excited. "Do you have the wire? Because if we could obtain some of Mal's blood - "

"Sorry. I kinda left it is his neck when he slugged me and ran away."

"He has a fetish," Lorne declares. "He's this super-killer. Always needs to be in control. Mal gets a cut, it reminds him that he's not invincible. And that's too much for him to bear."

"So we don't have to go for the kill," Cordy proposes. "Not right away. We swing and stab for the other parts of his body. Pretty soon, the mighty warrior's a scared little puppy."

"Does this mean you spent the night at Gwen's?," Fred asks, getting back to what she wants to know. Gunn looks a little uncomfortable. From his lengthy pause, Fred knows he didn't just spend the night at Gwen's. He spent the night with Gwen. Course, she had suspected that once she heard that Gwen was no longer untouchable. "Oh God."

"I'm sorry, Fred. No, I'm not sorry. Not for what I did. I am sorry if it hurts you. But we ain't been together for a while now."

"A little more than a month."

"You know we'd been drifting apart for longer than that."

"I know. But she killed you. You slept with a woman who killed you?"

Cordy tries to be comforting in her own uncomfortable way. "Fred, with the men we hang around, that's kind of normal. It's not like she sent him to Hell, or tried to wreak vengeance upon him. Or, spent years plotting against the man he worked for." Cordy didn't want to leave Wes out. Speaking of Wesley, the more unscrupulous part of him wishes he had tried to make a move on Fred. After all, if the two of them had known what Gunn and Gwen were up to, who knows what could have happened.

For one time, Connor's entrance makes the moment less awkward. He enters through the back door.

"Where were you?," Cordy asks.

"Taking a walk. Couldn't sleep." For the moment, Cordy forgets about Gunn knocking boots with the supertramp and remembers what she read in the paper, as well as the fact that Connor came home smelling of gasoline.

"Someone burned down a bar last night in North Hollywood. They killed five people. Did you happen to pass by there?"

Connor wasn't ashamed. "There were like twenty vampires inside. Don't tell me those people weren't already dead." Everybody realizes that Cordy's suspicions were correct. They gasp.

"You're okay with collateral damage?," Lorne asks nervously. If psycho Connor's returned, he's outta there.

"It was a demon bar! Those people were on the menu. It was too late to save them. But I saved all the people those vampires won't be killing from now on. You got a better way to kill that many vampires, let me know. Until then, don't give me those stupid looks."

Cordy leafs through the paper again. "Was that airplane hangar also you?"

Connor smiles. "Recognize the airport? That's where Mal hung his trophies. They had a big party last night. Vampires only. Until I crashed it."

"With what?," Lorne asks sarcastically. "Napalm and a rocket launcher?"

"That was you we passed!," Cordy exclaims. "You were the one driving the Taurus." Fred also remembers this.

"Don't worry. It belonged to a couple vamps. Which means it's no big deal that it exploded."

"You set off a car bomb?," Wesley asks with equal parts trepidation and admiration. Killing demons with high explosives was something he would think of.

"I did what I had to." For Lorne, this is all too reminiscent of when Holtz blew up Caritas in an effort to kill the pregnant Darla. But, if Connor really had gone bad, Lorne knew this recollection would only make Connor mad at him. So he stays mum.

"You committed a crime," Cordelia responds. "Two crimes. At least. Big, huge felony crimes."

"For destroying demon property?"

"Now wait just a minute!," Lorne interjects, no longer able to hold his tongue.

"Evil demon property," Connor corrects himself. "I fought back. I hurt the bad guys. What's wrong with that?"

"You were reckless," Wesley tries to explain.

"Who are you to give me advice?," Connor scornfully replies. "Even I've been here longer than you."

"Actually, he's – ," and then Gunn realizes why Connor thinks this. And, like everyone else, Gunn looks queasy, since none of them knows how to explain Wesley's absence to Connor.

"What?," Connor asks angrily but innocently. "What were you gonna say?"

"Nothin'," Gunn nervously responds. "Just that he's been fightin' demons as long as the rest of us."

"You mean when he was a Watcher? From what I hear, he didn't do any fighting back then. But enough. I don't care." Connor walks towards the stairs. Then the phone rings. After a couple rings, Fred decides to answer.

"Angel Investigations," she says, though the Angel part was a painful reminder of his absence. "You wanna hire us? How much?" That peaks Cordy's interest. And the prospects of killing something gets Connor's attention.

An hour later, Giles enters the Hyperion. He's never been there before. At first, he's rather impressed by the spaciousness and the decor. He looks up at the balconies and the columns. Lorne stands up from behind the counter.

"Can I help you? Don't be afraid of the makeup. I just got finished shooting a scene as an extra on . . . oh! It's you. Giles! My goodness. This is certainly, a, surprise."

"Where are the others?"

Lorne worries he's going to ask about Angel. "Out. On a job."

Connor, Fred, Cordy, Wes and Gunn are in the sewers, facing off against a giant three-headed demon dog.

"Did he say it was a Cerberus?," Wesley yells over the growling.

"All he said was something was killing the neighborhood pets," Cordy yells back.

"Ah think this fella could eat a whole lot more than Fido," Fred notes. Gunn tries the flamethrower. It keeps the demon at bay. However, he doesn't seem to burn. After a few seconds, he lunges his middle head forward. Cordy and Fred back up. Wesley swings a sword and cuts the head off. But it immediately grows back. Wes and Gunn also retreat.

"I think you have to cauterize the wound to keep the head from growing back," Wesley suggests to Gunn.

"No Wesley!," Fred yells out. "That's with a hydra."

"Then how do you suggest we kill it?"

As the monster steps forward, the four of them retreat. But Connor puts a dagger between his teeth and leaps up onto the ceiling and crawls along it, eluding the demon's heads. He then jumps down onto the monster's back, takes the knife in his hands and severs the demon's spinal cord. His heads fall dead a few feet in front of the rest of the battered and terrified gang. Connor smiles as he leaps down off the demon. "How bout like that?," he asks with a grin, tossing his dagger up in the air and catching it.

"It doesn't matter," Giles responds to Lorne's relief. "I'm only here to use the books Claude dropped off for safe keeping. I hope I won't be getting in the way of anything."

"As if there was something for you to get in the way of," Lorne responds sheepishly. "They're in the office. Knock yourself out. Not literally, of course. I myself used to have a nasty habit of getting conked out."

"Me too," Giles responds with a smile. He goes into the office and closes the door. Lorne sits down and pretends to wipe the sweat off his forehead. That was a close call. He didn't want word getting out about how dysfunctional things had become in Los Angeles. Ironically, Giles had the same worry, and was relieved that Lorne didn't ask about the situation in Sunnydale. Giles left twenty minutes before the gang came back. Cordelia was smiling and holding a check.

"Five thousand dollars! It's great to be making good money again." Then, Cordy's looks shifts to despair. "Even if we may not live to spend it."

"I take it from your chipper looks that it wasn't too tough?," Lorne inquires.

"Wouldn't go that far," Gunn replies.

"The demon was exceedingly tough," Wesley explains.

"But I was tougher," Connor adds with a cocky grin.

"Faster," Cordy corrects him. Arrogance is the last thing Connor needs right now.

Fred walks into the office and sees all the books strewn about. "You doin' some research?," she asks Lorne.

"Not me. Rupert Giles came by."

"Giles!," Cordy exclaims. Then she tries to figure out why. "Did Buffy die again?"

"No."

"What did he want?," Wesley wonders.

"Does he no about Angel?," Cordy asks.

"No."

"You mean he didn't ask about Mal?," Wes follows up.

"He was more concerned about the thing trying to kill him. He took some of Frenchy's books back to Sunnydale."

"Is Dawn okay?," Connor asks.

"No one's dead. Everyone's okay. But they're fighting a Titan. Whatever that is."

"What is that?," Fred asks Wes.

"I'm not sure."

"Whatever it is, it can't be tougher than our monster," Cordy assumes.

The windows in the house were tinted, which proved wonderful for Mal. Before sunrise, some of the vampires working for him had removed the four corpses from the property so that they wouldn't attract the police's attention. Mal stands up in front of the couch, holding the remote, surfing through the three hundred satellite channels his victim had. Every time he changed a channel, there was something new on. He loved it. Television was novel enough to a 3,500 year-old man. But this was truly mind-blowing. The volume on the television is turned all the way down. The stereo speakers blare the bass line at the beginning of Curtis Mayfield's "(Don't Worry) If There's A Hell Below, We're All Going To Go." Mal dances barefoot, in his brown slacks and unbuttoned blue shirt as he watches tv and tries to imitate Mayfield's falsetto. The sort of unguarded, potentially embarrassing behavior one engages in only when they're sure they are alone.

Over the last twelve hours, Nina had been around the world and back: Sidney, Bangcock, Bombay, Paris, Rio, New York, – searching for fun, as well as for uppity demons to put in their place. And now she finds out there's some vampire right in her own backyard who's telling everyone how super-special he is. Someone the demons feared. Well, the demons were only supposed to fear Nina. She had to teach this vampire a lesson.

Mal hears a knock at the door. "That's funny. I didn't order breakfast." He heads over to the door at looks out the peephole. Hot pink hair, tight black pants, leopard skin haltertop. "But I always like gifts," Mal adds before opening the door. The south-facing porch, covered by an awning, makes sure no direct sunlight hits Mal. He smiles at his visitor. Nina pounds his nose with a right jab, sending Mal staggering ten feet backwards. This girl could hit.

"Can I come in?," Nina playfully asks as she steps in and closes the door. "I'm sorry. That only works against your kind." Nina leaps up and pummels Mal's head with a left roundhouse kick. Mal looks her over. Super powers. Major attitude. Sexy, revealing clothes that didn't restrict movement. A palpable hatred for vampires. He knew what she was.

"I didn't think your boss would let you near me." He blocks Nina's left hook. She jumps up off her left foot and nails Mal's chin with a straight right kick, knocking him into the back wall.

"She lets me have my fun." Mal tries a left hook kick. When Nina blocks it, he spins and connects with a left roundhouse kick. She responds with a right roundhouse kick.

"She? I suppose a female Watcher would be better at understanding a Slayer's feelings."

"Slayer!!?," an insulted and furious Nina screams. She picks Mal up and throws him over her shoulder and into the television, which he knocks over and shatters, his butt going through the screen. "Could a Slayer do that!?"

"Perhaps. But none ever has." Mal stands up. "Now the tube I don't mind losing. But don't even think of messing with my tunes."

This room, the largest in the steel, glass and concrete house, is sixty feet long, twenty feet wide and twenty five feet high. At either end, along the east and west walls, are floor-to-ceiling windows. Along the bottom front (south) wall is a ten foot-high concrete wall, with glass above. On the first floor behind this room, going from east to west, are the kitchen, dining room and den. Directly above them are bedrooms and an office. They open out into a ten foot-wide balcony that looks down on the living room. The balcony is fifteen feet above the room and to its north. In the grand room itself, on the east side is the foyer and the front door. Just to the west of the foyer is a sitting room with couches, easy chairs and artwork. Next to this, in the western half of the room, is the entertainment center. The tv is in the center of this area, directly in front of the glass coffee table and large leather couch. The stereo is to the west, between the left speaker and the west wall.

Nina had thrown Mal a good forty feet to the south and west. He walks ten feet towards her. She leaps thirty feet through the air and tries a flying right hook kick. Mal puts his right hand on the bottom of her foot, his left hand on the back of her calf, and hurls her face first into the front wall. Her legs hit the concrete, and her face slams into the glass above it. Nina pushes off with her hands and feet, flies back over Mal, does a back flip and lands ten feet in front of him.

"I apologize," Mal tells Nina. "Ain't no Slayer who could do that."

"I know. But wouldn't you like to see them try?" Mal laughs at Nina's joke about making a Slayer do a face plant into a wall. She pounds him in the jaw with a very fast right roundhouse kick and follows this up with a left hook and right uppercut. Then she throws him through a cabinet. His back slams against the concrete on the south wall. Mal stands there, waiting for her attack. Nina jumps at him like she's going to try another flying kick. Instead, she does a forward round-off, lands right in front of Mal and throws a left jab. Mal ducks. Nina's fist slams into the concrete. Mal goes on the offensive, landing a left cross, right uppercut, left hook and right roundhouse punch to Nina's face, causing her to stagger backwards. She lands a left cross, but Mal blocks her right hook, connects with two right jabs to her face, then a right spin kick, left hook kick and straight right kick to her body, ending the flurry with a left hook kick to Nina's back, knocking her on her face. Mal turns around and casually walks back to the south wall to take a look at the dent Nina left in the concrete.

"Not bad. Say, you ain't a god, are you?" If there was one thing Nina hated worse than being mistaken for a Slayer, it was this. But she decides to keep her cool, at least for now.

"Why would you say that? Do you feel a urge to kneel before me?," Nina asks flirtatiously as she walks towards Mal.

"You're right," Mal responds. "A god would be smart enough to leave me alone." Mal contemptuously turns his back to Nina and looks over at his busted television set. An absolutely livid Nina pounds his back with a right hook kick, sending Mal into the concrete. He puts his hands out to keep his face from hitting the wall. Nina grabs the back of Mal's head and attempts to slam it into wall. But he tightens his neck, and not even she can push it forward.

"You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, dead boy," Nina whispers in his right ear. Mal pushes off with his hands, sending his body backwards. At the same time, he hits Nina's face with the back of his head. Mal's free, and he turns to face her.

"Number one, I didn't get myself into anything. You came here. And number two, nobody calls me boy. Certainly not some lonely-ass, trigger-happy white girl who doesn't even know how to dress herself."

"White? I'm sepia, Stevie Wonder!" Nina sends a right hook kick and left roundhouse kick for Mal's face. He ducks under the first and pulls his head back away from the second.

"Sorry. White girl with a tan. Your momma still shoulda taught you how to dress."

"My mother died eons before your were even born." She tries to sweep his left leg with her right. Mal jumps in the air and tries a right hook kick. Nina ducks under it and spins around. When Mal returns to the ground, a left roundhouse kick is eighteen inches from his mouth. He swerves his head to the left, and the kick only grazes his right ear. Mal blocks a right hook and left jab. Nina blocks a left uppercut and right cross. Their arms entangle and Mal pushes her back three feet. "And what's your problem with my clothes? Are you one of those old-fashioned types who throws a hissy-fit if a woman shows her navel?"

"The pants are nice. And they go with the shoes. Prada?"

"They also came with a handbag, but that's just not me." Nina kicks Mal in the chest with her right foot. He doesn't move.

"I can see that you're a woman who does not need a purse. But no woman needs that top. What is the point of getting those nice pants when you're going to ruin it with that ridiculous shirt? And don't even get me started on your hair."

Nina groans. "A gay vampire. They didn't say anything about that." Nina throws a right hook. Mal grabs her right wrist and twists her arm behind her back. To hold her, he has his right arm across her chest and his right hand on the left side of her jaw, so that he's prepared to snap her neck if she tries anything. Nina rolls her eyes. As if that could kill her. Mal holds her for a few seconds while he figures out what she called him. When you know hundreds of languages, sometimes a few of the slang words get lost in the shuffle. He knows it means "happy." But why would she call him that? Then he figures it out, and tosses Nina into the dining room. She slides along the table and lands near the back wall.

"What's up with you!? A guy can't have taste without his manhood being called into question? Not that I ain't had offers. Back in Hellas I had to fight them off. I don't know how many times a man caught me in bed with his wife and got jealous. Of her! Can't deny it was flattering, but that way just didn't do it for me."

Nina leaps forward, does a cartwheel over the table and a flip into the living room. "Sorry. This isn't the first time I've made that mistake. Every guy vampire I meet seems gay. What is it with you creature-of-the-night types?"

"When the viewer keeps seeing things that are not there, the problem lies with her."

"I may have problems," Nina begins before throwing a right cross, left hook, right hook kick and left roundhouse kick. Mal blocks the first punch, ducks under the second, blocks the first kick and ducks the second. "But I am NOT a Slayer!" Nina dodges Mal's left jab and pounds him with a right hook. "And I am certainly not some stupid" – Nina lands a left hook – "insecure" – a second left hook – "pathetic god!" She hits Mal with a third left hook. He responds with an overhand left cross, then ducks under Nina's right hook. Mal lands a right jab, but when he follows it up with a right hook, Nina grabs him right arm, spins Mal around and tosses him into the western glass wall, which is thirty feet to Nina's right. When Mal's back slams into the glass, his feet are ten feet off the ground. The glass cracks, but doesn't shatter. When Mal's feet hit the floor, he looks up at the damage with trepidation. If that window breaks, he's incinerated.

"I think we can work something out," he parlays.

"Begging for your life so soon?," Nina haughtily responds.

"No. I'm trying not to waste my time. Because that is what you are to me. I have no interest in killing you. At least not for a few days. I'm in the middle of something. But what I want to know is, why do you want to kill me?"

"I need a reason?"

Nina and Mal leap into the air. They meet fifteen feet off the ground. They block each other's kick, become entangled and spiral down to the floor, crashing through a credenza that was behind the couch. While they're down, Mal lands three left hooks to her ribs. Nina wraps her lower legs around Mal's neck and tries to snap it. He grabs her knees and prevents her from twisting her legs to perform this maneuver. Then, while still on his knees, Mal picks Nina up, arches him back and slams her face into the floor. Having broke free, he stands up. When Nina tries to rise, Mal sends a right hook kick for her head. She grabs his right ankle with both hands and twists the leg, causing Mal to spiral in mid-air and fall to the ground. When she tries to kick him while he's down, Mal grabs her foot. Nina does a back flip to break free while Mal gets to his feet. He attacks. Nina backs away from his right jab. She blocks his right hook kick and left hook punch. Nina counters with a right hook which causes Mal to take a step back. Nina attacks, launching a leaping left hook kick. It hits the right side of Mal's face and knocks him to his left. He tumbles over the couch and falls face-first into the glass coffee table, shattering it.

"Now that was wrong," Mal announces. Without looking, Mal tosses a large glass shard to his right. Nina leaps up, avoiding the missile and sailing above the couch and above Mal. She lands to his left, and confidently looks down at him. Then she looks down at herself. While she was in mid-air, he tossed three shards into her chest. Mal takes another piece of glass in his left hand and slashes Nina's right achilles' tendon. She goes down and he stands up. "You did well. Real well. But I think it's time YOU start begging for your life. Lucky for you, I am as merciful as I am mighty."

Nina stands up and takes the glass pieces out of her chest. "I don't need your mercy. And I sure as hell don't need your might!" She jumps off her right foot and hits Mal in the chin with a leaping straight left kick. He is sent back into the couch, which tips over. Mal stands up and sees Nina walking towards him. She should be lame by now. This was worrisome. Mal puts his left foot under the left end of the couch and kicks it up, so it's standing on its right end. He then pushes it with his right foot towards Nina. She dodges the seven foot-high obstacle, which slides into the wall, just missing the stereo, to Mal's great relief. That made him think of something.

"This is beginning to get pointless," he tells Nina right before she lands a right cross. "It's obvious we'll destroy this house before we destroy each other."

"And that would be a bad thing, why?," she asks before throwing a straight right kick, which Mal moves his head back away from.

"I don't see how it's a good thing," Mal answers. "And since you can't destroy me -," Mal adds before Nina steps forward tries a right roundhouse kick. Mal leaps upwards and backwards, landing on the balcony. "- why continue trying?"

"Why not? Got nothin' better to do." Nina leaps up onto the balcony railing and looks down at Mal. He hops onto the railing. Balancing their feet on the three foot-high, one inch-wide railing that looms eighteen feet above the living room, they edge towards each and begin sparing, throwing punches and trying to push the other one back down to the first floor. Then they each try several low kicks, attempting to trip up their opponent. Mal and Nina jump up, avoid the other's attack, land back down on the railing and shuffle back-and-forth like fencers. After twenty seconds of this high-wire act, Mal gets bored. He jumps to his right, does a round off and lands on the balcony. Nina leaps over his head, does a flip and lands behind Mal. He turns and hits her with a right roundhouse punch and a left hook. She answers with two quick left jabs and a straight right kick to his chin. Mal ducks her left roundhouse kick and lands a right jab. She blocks his second right jab and sweeps his legs out, knocking Mal down. He rolls backwards and gets up. She lands a vicious right hook kick. When she tries a right uppercut, Mal grabs Nina and tosses her through a wall and into one of the bedrooms. Nina picks up the dresser and throws it at Mal from ten feet away. He moves to the left. The dresser flies over the balcony and smashes on the stone floor downstairs. Mal smiles. He thinks he's gained the upper hand. Nina picks up the dressing couch at the end of the bed and swings it. Mal gets clobbered back into the railing. Nina leaps at him. He grabs her. A portion of the balcony breaks loose and they fall back down into the living room, all the while maneuvering in mid-air for advantage.

Nina lands on top of Mal. She takes a wooden stake in her right hand. Mal grabs it at tosses it along the floor to his left. Nina pins Mal's arms behind his head. Mal goes bumpy. Nina looks surprised. "You really are the walrus," she jokes, commenting on his oversized fangs. Mal turns his head and bites clean through Nina's right forearm. He nearly rips the lower half of her arm clean off. Nina shrieks and hits Mal twice in the right eye with her left fist. Now that she's let go of his arms, he'll let go of hers. Mal returns to his human face and reaches his right hand up toward her neck. Nina arches up out of his reach. She puts both hands on his chest and slams his back down to the ground. Mal has his mouth closed. He's running his tongue across his teeth, trying to figure out what Nina tasted like. He can't. But he does know what she felt like.

"So soft. Like meringue. And yet you are so strong. No pulse. And yet you are warm. I hate to kill something before I know what it is."

"You couldn't kill me if you wanted to. But you so obviously don't. Which is completely pathetic for your kind. Then again, your kind is completely pathetic to begin with." As Nina continues to hold Mal to the ground, she notices something odd. "The other undead guys didn't feel like this. Neither did the live ones." She runs her hands down his ten-pack abs, more curious than turned-on. "Like it's carved out of rock." She stops above his belt-line, putting her left hand on his unbeating heart and her right hand around his neck. She tries to squeeze it, but can't get very far. Meanwhile, she has trouble getting her left hand underneath his skin. An alarmed Mal grabs her left hand with both of his and pulls it up. However, he allows her to continue her fruitless attempt to throttle him.

"I don't breath," he jokes. She puts both hands around his neck.

"But you do need a spine. Which means, if I crush it, you die."

"Tell me how that goes," Mal blithely responds. To show that she isn't even cutting off his air passage, he sings with the song playing on the stereo: "Cat-calling, love-balling; fussing and a-cussing. Top feeling now is killing; for peace no one is willing. Kinda make you get that feeling - "

Nina lets go of Mal's neck and slaps his face with her right hand. "Shut up. I was trying to think." Mal laughs.

"I thought you were trying kill me."

"What's the point? You're already dead." She looks at her palms. "What is this? Is this sweat. You sweat?"

"I have to stay cool somehow. And it definitely beats panting. You don't sweat?," he asks before reaching his right hand up towards her face. She angrily slaps it away. Mal finds this grossly hypocritical. "If you don't like me, you can get off me any time you want."

"And lose the tactical advantage? Stop trying to make this something it's not." Mal reaches both hands up and rips off Nina's shirt. "Hey!!!," she screams before landing a left jab to his nose. Mal blocks her right cross, then grips both of her wrists so she can't punch him again. Nina struggles to break her arms free.

"I told you I didn't like that shirt," he says to her with a chuckle, laughing as this invincible wonder-woman struggles. After ten seconds she breaks free, looking furious. She puts her hands on his forehead, her thumbs prepared to gouge his eyes out. Then she looks into them. She can see the red glow. "Gross. He's gone bumpy," she thinks to herself. Then she glances down at his mouth. He's still human. She looks back into his eyes. She still sees the glow. They're not vacant and empty like the eyes of other vampires. There must be some sort of spark in him. Plus, he was handsome and had the most amazing bod she'd even laid her hands on. Considering how Nina had been around since practically the beginning of time, that was saying a lot. Plus, it isn't like she has anything, or anyone, better to do. Nina leans down and kisses Mal on the lips. He wraps his arms around her. She rips off his pants. Mal rolls over so he's on top. Nina flips Mal over her head so he lands on his back, his feet facing the opposite direction they were before. Nina, puts her hands behind her had, arches her back, pushes off with her feet and flips herself backwards. Her legs travel 180 degrees through the air, and she lands back on top of him. "I knew there was some way we could both win," Mal says as he looks up into her eyes. They both smile. For now, he could care less about Angel and Connor.

"It would appear that Anya was correct," Giles tells the group back at Buffy's house.

"About what in particular?," Anya asks. "Seeing how I'm right about a great many things."

"Nina," Giles responds. "To the best of what I can determine, she is a Titan. As was her brother. Seth and Nina. Also know as Set and Nanna. Also referred to as Sot and Na-an. They're mentioned a number of times in sources from other dimensions."

"We have those?," Xander asks.

"The Council did." He puts the books on the table. "According to the texts, Titans worshipped forms. Ideals. Perfect good, perfect evil, perfect beauty, perfect love, pain, sorrow, ecstasy, and so on. The Titans were fiercely iconoclastic. They believed that any being which took on physical form could not be a god, now matter how powerful the being was. For this, the divinities destroyed their world and obliterated their species."

"As religious persecution goes, that kind of takes the cake," Willow concedes.

"Persecution is when you're killed by followers of a god," Anya explains. "Without the god's help. I'm not sure what it's called when you're done in by the actual god."

Giles continues. "For whatever reason, one of the Forms – in this case the First Evil – chose to rescue Seth and his older sister Nina. They're the First's reserves, their most elite shock troops, – "

"Their relief pitchers," Xander interrupts, trying to find a better metaphor. "Seth's the set-up man, and Nina's the closer." He looks around in vain to find another baseball fan.

"Whatever," a confused Giles replies, since cricket offers no helpful parallels. "They've spent the rest of history going from dimension to dimension, doing the First's bidding. And, from what I can tell, they are extraordinarily successful at their work."

"Meaning?," Buffy asks.

"There is no record of them ever losing."

"Can't they be killed like the rest of their people were?," Buffy asks in reply.

"Yes."

"How were their people killed?," Willow wonders.

"They were torn limb-from-limb."

"We can do that," Buffy declares with optimism. "Sure, we've done a lot more staking, and beheading, and even exploding. But we can try some tearing."

"Actually, they were eaten," Anya adds, correcting Giles. He looks at her.

"Where did you hear that?"

"From other demons. The legend is the Titans were torn limb-from-limb and ingested. That way, their bodies couldn't be reconstituted." Everyone looks worried. And a little nauseous.

"We have to eat our enemy?," Xander asks.

"I don't know if we have to, but that's the only way it's ever been done," Anya responds.

"That's sick," Faith comments. "I'm not sinking my teeth into my enemy."

"We know someone here who's done that," Xander announces. Everyone looks at Spike.

"Hey. Back off. I'm strictly liquids. I don't go for flesh. And no bloody way I could eat an entire body even if my life and the whole blooding planet depended on it. You're gonna have to find someone else for that job."

"Dammit!," Xander blurts out. "Where's Oz when we really need him?"


	30. Break On Through

As Angel returns to Los Angeles, Mal decides to take a road trip to Sunnydale.

Angel finds himself facing up against an eight-legged creature. The segmented legs are paired together, and the four pairs of legs are arrayed in a square ten feet wide. The legs connect to a two part insect-like body, at the front of which are teeth that can shoot two feet out of the demon's mouth before snapping together and snaring or crushing its prey. The body is asymmetrical, with the back section in the center. Presumably, this is heavier than the front section, thus maintaining balance. What's more, the back section can swivel, moving the head up or down. And the head can rotate 180 degrees around, in case someone tries to attack from behind. Angel takes his sword and tries to get to the demon's side. But the pairs of legs also swivel, enabling it to have very quick lateral movement. Angel's efforts just get him kicked into the left wall. While he's down, the monster's head turns 90 degrees and comes at him. Angel swings his sword. The demon takes the weapon in its teeth, rips it out of Angel's hands and tosses it away with a flick of its head. Before it can bite into him, Angel crawls on his belly underneath the demon insect. Its head turns downward, but can't get a hold of him. Angel crawls between the creature's legs and makes his way free, though not before one of the legs jabs down into his lower back, causing a very nasty bruise.

Angel faced a big problem even before he lost his sword. The demon could just swing its head upwards until it was twelve feet in the air and outside of Angel's range. And if Angel went for the body, it would swoop its head down and grab him in its outwardly extended jaws. Not to mention the fact that it had quite a kick, which was a good way to keep any foe at bay. Now, Angel has to think hard. The demon is between him and his sword. There's no easy way he can around, underneath or over the top this monster without getting crushed or eaten. But behind him, along the wall, are several torches. If he ran to one of these, he'd be in business. So Angel leaps twenty feet back. The demon stands still, hissing and chomping its jaws. A torch is ten feet behind Angel and to his right. He rushes towards it. The demon scampers with an elaborate but effective trot. It's on top of Angel when he grabs the torch in his right hand. Angel quickly swings for the mouth. The demon shuts its jaws on the flame, extinguishing it. Then it pounds Angel's body four times with its front, left pair of legs. Angel fights back, swinging his left arm at the legs. But they are covered in prickers, dozens of which pierce Angel's left hand and forearm. Angel does manage to dodge the insect's jaws and hit the outside of its mouth with his left fist, though landing the punch with the injured hand is quite painful. The demon, stung by the blow, yelps and kicks Angel thirty feet down the dungeon hall.

Then it raises its head and lets out a piercing shriek that Angel assumes must be a war cry. It reverberates along the corridor's dank, cavernous stone walls. Angel stands up and tries to remain on his feet. He's bent over and in a great amount of pain. He figures his chance of killing this thing with his bare hands is quite slim. But what weapons does he have left? Angel reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wooden stake Mal gave him. He sighs despondently. The demon slowly approaches, moving side-to-side to show that it can quickly cut off any attempts to get around it. Angel looks at the humble stake. Then he looks at the giant insect. Obviously throwing the stake wouldn't do the job. So he'd have to stab it. Presumably in the head. But how? Since it could pull its head way up high, he'd have to get the job done from overhead: leap in the air and hope to stab the demon before it bit him in two. Angel bends his knees, takes the stake in his right hand and waits for the demon to get within range. When it goes to bite him, his swings his stake. For whatever reason, the demon respects Mister Pointy. It pulls its jaws back, then goes for the head, causing Angel to leap back out of the way. It quickly pursues him and chomps for his legs, leading Angel to jump back yet again. This time, he nearly doesn't stick the landing because of injuries. So the demon was intelligent. It adapted to the new weapon by striking outside the weapon's range. This gave Angel hope. If it thought, then he could get inside its head and outsmart the beast.

Angel holds the stake in front of his face, jabbing towards the demon's mouth. The demon raises its head to twice Angel's height. Then it swoops down. Angel ducks to the ground to his left. The teeth at the end of the demon's right jaw graze his right shoulder, though lesser, mortal men would say the three inch-long chompers nearly took his arm off. The demon tucks its jaws back into its mouth and keeps spinning. Its head misses the floor by a foot, then comes up and back around. Angel crouches. As its head spins round, the demon shuffles its feet rightward so its head is in line with its prey. Then it brings the head down yet again on the cowering prey. Angel groans in pain as he leaps in the air. He tucks in his arms and feet so the demon with have less to grab. After it misses biting him, Angel extends his limbs and lands on the back section of the demon insect. As the head swung downwards, this part swung upwards. Angel's weight causes it to swing back down, so that the creature's body is parallel to the ground. He stabs its thorax. The monster squeals and starts furiously kicking Angel with its hind legs. Evidently that hadn't injured the demon, but only made it madder.

Worse still, Angel was facing the wrong way. He twists his body around the demon's hairy, prickly exterior. As he does this, the demon rotates its head around so it faces Angel. He sees this, and is not happy, to say the least. Now he can't stab the head without the insect's mouth ripping his right arm clean off. So he quickly stabs for the spot where the head and thorax connect. The demon's jaws grab his right wrist. But by then, he's driven the blow home. The two parts of the demon's body are severed, and they fall, lifeless, to the mildewy ground. Angel is greatly relieved, even though he can't get his right arm free. A blue mist starts emanating from the mortal wound. It coalesces into what Angel recognizes as a portal. "Oh no you don't. Not another one." He can't take much more of Mal's Demon Slave Colony Adventure. The portal sucks him in and drops him off on rocks and dirt. His arm is free, though badly mauled. Angel glances up at the sky. It looks familiar. He stands up, turns around and sees the castle in the distance. He's on the far side, further along to wherever he was going. Angel's relieved. He may not be home, but he's closer to it.

Nina and Mal lie on the floor. Nina rests her head on his chest. Isaac Hayes's rendition of the Beatles' "Something" plays on the stereo. The rest of the furniture, most of which survived the fight in tact, is busted. There's a long crack in the concrete wall, and all the paintings and artwork have fallen off. The balcony's no more. It lies in pieces on the downstairs floor.

"It's dark," Nina notices. "When did the sun set?"

"Obviously sometime before we leaped through the glass wall and into the pool," Mal answers. Nina looks at the giant hole in the west wall.

"Right," Nina says with a smile as she kisses Mal and runs her fingers over his hair. "We were at it for what, ten hours?"

Mal looks up at a clock still hanging from a second floor wall. "Ten hours and forty-five minutes. But who was counting?"

"Definitely not me." Nina rolls on top of Mal and they kiss some more. He caresses her neck. She looks down at him and puts her right hand to his face. He playfully bites her thumb. "So, Mal. First time with a Titan?"

"First time with anything I didn't know even existed." He kisses her shoulders and arms, then nibbles a little on her fingers. "I think I figured you out, Nina. It's motion." He kisses her neck and moves his hands down her back as she arches it up. "You're so soft. You feel so delicate. But only when you are at rest. Movement is what gives you energy. The acceleration of a punch. The deceleration of your fist hitting some unfortunate person's face. Lying here with me, you're just potential. Stunningly beautiful potential." Nina laughs. "You don't agree?"

"No. I do," Nina replies as she caresses his left biceps with her right hand and his pecs and abs with her left. "My targets are called the Potentials. So it's funny. But words aside, you're right. I'm the irresistible force. And you're my rock-solid immovable object."

"You don't also find me irresistible?"

"Hell yeah. I was just making one of those, you know - "

"Metaphors?"

"Yep. So what's with this music?"

Mal reaches for the remote and puts on Otis Redding. "Here. You like this better?"

"It's all old-people's music. I know you're old."

"Not as old as you."

"But I'm with the times. I like the new stuff. What about rap? It's a lot more fun."

"The other vampires asked me the same thing. They don't understand that there's nothing new about what they call rap."

"You mean because of sampling?"

"Not even. Rhyming over beats has been done. Centuries ago. In a couple other dimensions. There's nothing special about that kind of music. But this, what you're hearing now, that's special. No one else has come up with soul."

"What about everything else?"

"It's been done."

"Rock? Punk? Funk?"

"More or less. They sound a little different. Use instruments no one here would recognize. But it's the same stuff. There's thousands of dimensions."

"Hundreds of thousands."

"Even better. Each one's been around for millions of years. Of course there's going to be overlap. Two or three or thirty civilizations arriving at the same answer. But not this answer. You won't find anything like Otis or Aretha anywhere else in the universe. One of the many things I love about this planet."

"Hope I don't destroy all the things you love," Nina responds, feeling a little uncomfortable about ruining his world.

"You can't. We can adapt to anything. Even you." Mal goes bumpy and sinks his fangs deep into Nina's neck. She moans. Mal looks over her shoulder at the clock. He stops biting Nina and stands up. "I need to go take care of some business. And, before that, find some clothes to put on."

"Oh. Right. That vampire you're going to kill. I can show you mine. Plus, I got Slayers. So long as they're not too scared to come out tonight."

"I've heard some interesting things about this Sunnydale place."

"See you soon?"

"Count on it," Mal promises. Nina disappears. The vampire puts one of the chairs right side up, collapses down on it, looks up at the hole in the ceiling where a chandelier used to be, and laughs. "Hellmouths always used to be so dull."

But before his new girl could introduce him to her small town pals, Mal had a few pressing matters to take care of. Mal struts into the Orpheum theater, which is packed with vampires. He wears loose-fitting white pants, no shirt, and a large platinum and diamond cross around his neck. Naturally, that impresses this crowd, to say the least. He ignores the gasps and makes his way towards Lou and Vic. Vic is six feet feet tall, an inch shorter than Lou. A tall, wiry white guy who looks to be in his early twenties. Vic has very pale skin, even for a vampire, and large, dark eyes. His short, black hair is parted down the center, giving him the look of an overgrown schoolboy. His big eyes, soft hair and thin, pursed lips lend him a curious combination of innocence and malice.

"Got your wheels in a garage across the street," Vic proudly tells Mal. "One hundred black vans with tinted windows, ready to roll."

"You did what you promised," Mal cooly responds. "You know what that gets you? A head still attached to your body." Vic looks a little disappointed. All he wanted was a little credit. Mal looks at Lou. "Are all the men here?"

"Yes sir," Lou reports. "I had no trouble making good our losses from last night."

"I knew you wouldn't. Tell whomever set those fires that they did us a favor. If they didn't kill those surplus vampires, we would have needed to. It's nice when your enemies help out." Vic laughs. Mal glares at him. Vic stops laughing. Mal always seems to like it when Lou sucks up.

"All of the men and women have been given your manual and instructed in your ways," Lou reports.

"I had those typed-up and run-off at the printer's last night," Vic offers.

"I'm sure that must have required great skill on your part," Mal responds curtly. Then he lightly slaps Vic's face with his left hand and chuckles. "Smile, my boy! I am only joking with you!" Vic nervously laughs along. Mal puts his right to Lou's face. "Victor. Louis. Please bring me my seals." Each of them puts on a large, leather glove, walks over to some hot coals and picks up a small, metal rectangle about four centimeters wide and two centimeters deep. One side of the rectangle is red hot. Vic and Lou put the cool sides down on a table in front of Mal. Ten men eagerly line up. One-by-one, they reach out their hands. Mal pulls the backs of their left hands down into one brand, and the backs of their left hands into the other. They wince as he holds each their hands down for a few seconds and smoke rises up from their skin. Lou and Vic hold up their fists. Mal puts the right-hand brand on the back of both their fists. He orders the 350 men and 150 women in attendance to sit down. Petey, who's up in the projector booth, shines a spotlight on Mal and starts showing slides on the big screen behind Mal. He begins his presentation.

"One hundred teams of five. Grouped into ten companies of fifty. Each company assigned a region. Each team assigned a neighborhood. The first thing you do when you arrive in your neighborhood is to kill any unmarked vampires in your territory. By tomorrow, Los Angeles, Orange, Ventura and San Bernardino counties will be ours. And only ours. Provided you stick together. Remain with your quintet. While you eliminate the competition, your leader of fifty will be assessing human resistance. He or she will report to you on the location of any demon fighters in your area. Only when the humans have been pacified will the leader of your quintet allow you to disperse and obtain your own residence. Considering how you'll be the only vampires in the neighborhood, it should not be too hard to find a good place. Abundant space. Abundant blood. Abundant victims. An absence of enemies. That is what you have to look forward to.

"That, and traveling." The slides switch from a map of the Los Angeles area to a map of the west coast. An arc with a radius of 500 miles extends around L.A. The area inside is sub-divided into ten sections, just like the city had been. "Without enemies, with the collaboration of local gangs and with the acquiescence the local police forces, we will not need to maintain such a large presence in our home base. There is room for expansion. San Diego. Tijuana. Las Vegas. Phoenix. San Francisco. They can all be yours. So long as you are patient. No moving for a month." The vampires laugh. "And no siring. Not here, at least. That I cannot stress too much. Violation of any of my orders will result in death. Especially that one. You are all privileged. If other vampires enter this town, or if you make other vampires inside this town, then that precious privilege becomes worthless. However, when your capo gives you permission, you may travel. When you get to the new town, each member of your group of five can sire four new members. Please be selective. Choose only those who are worthy. Then you can be your own leader of five. You behave in this new town as you behaved here. Eliminate unmarked vampires. Scout the humans. Stay together until all demon fighters are taken care of. And don't overpopulate. When you've started sharing victims, when you take your blood from a bottle, something is deeply wrong.

"Many of you have asked about the Slayer. Or Slayers. Don't worry about her. Or them, however that happened." Interstate Five going up the coast to Vancouver and Interstate Ten going across the country to Jacksonville are lit up. "The Slayer is not astride our lines of communication. And, from what I hear, she has problems of her own. If she wishes to deal with us, she will have to come south and deal with me. As I said, do not worry about any Slayers." The vampires get excited. All of them who know about Buffy are scared to death of her. But they think the super-vampire sporting the bling-bling crucifix on his chest could teach her a thing or two. "Like all other humans, the Slayers will have to learn to live with us."

"Trust me, she already has!," a vampire yells out. The rest of them laugh. Mal doesn't get it. He waits a few seconds for them to settle down, then continues.

"Eventually, we will be able to progress along both lines of communication. One of which terminates on the other side of the continent, the other of which terminates in the ice-bound regions, both of which begin right here in Los Angeles. But those plans are at least a year in the future. In the short term, we will not extend our line of communications beyond one day (500 miles). Be patient. We're not getting any older." The vampires applaud. "Your leaders of fifty will now give you the Mark of the Chosen. Then you will go out and show this city who owns it."

Mal leaves. Lou and Vic, along with the ten captains, take control of the situation. Everyone gets a common brand on their left hand. The captains got a special brand on their right to connote rank. Vic and Lou didn't get the common brand, but got two of the special brands. Each leader of their group of five gets a common brand on each hand, to distinguish them from the other vampires. Mal knew his speech could have been more rousing, but he was distracted. The big move was an afterthought. He had already laid the ground work by personally choosing all the captains and nearly all of the team leaders on Monday and Tuesday. Now all the vamps had to do was go where he told them to. Meanwhile, there was another vampire he wanted to relocate.

Angel had walked along for hours towards a pointy rock with an impossibly steep peak. It looked important. Perhaps there was a cave inside that contained the portal back home. When he gets close, Angel notices a sudden rise in the ground of about fifteen feet. To his left, underneath this rise, were four demons pushing a wheel and going around in circles. On top of the rise was a stream that flowed gently downward. Evidently, the stream was artificial, and the demons were turning a pump to raise the water back up. As Angel walked down the gentle slope, he noticed how the stream fed a garden that brightened up the otherwise desolate landscape. Just the sort of picturesque yet pointless use of demon slave labor that Mal seemed to be fond of. To say nothing of how much work it took to create and even out this slope which extends for miles. When Angel is within a hundred yards of the rock, someone emerges and moves towards him. It's Mal. This is not what Angel wants to see. What's worse, he's bearing gifts. Mal has his satchel slung over his shoulder.

"Have we been having fun?," Mal asks. "I know I have." Mal takes off the satchel and pulls out a large urn. "I believe you two have met." Mal drops the urn, smashing it. Sah-jhan materializes. He looks down at the busted urn. That makes him happy. He looks over at Angel. That makes him even happier. Angel looks severely disappointed. This is not what he needs right now. To say nothing of Connor. "I swear, one finds the rarest things in your city," Mal jokes. He stands back, folds his arms and watches.

"Not the face I wanted to see, but you'll do for now," Sah-jhan tells the exhausted and injured Angel. He swings his right arm for Angel's head. Angel blocks it and lands a right uppercut, grunting in pain. The demon pounds the top of Angel's head with his left fist, knocking Angel to his knees. When Sah-jhan tries to kick him, Angel grabs his foot and pulls the demon onto his back. Angel stands up and kicks Sah-jhan in the face. He gets up. Angel backs away, giving himself room to react.

"Take a look around," Angel tells his delighted opponent. "The guy who freed you, you're in his world now. It's a great world. For him. Not for you. All the demons here are slaves. And you thought you were free when you got out of that bottle." Sah-jhan rushes Angel. He uses all his strength to flip the demon on his back.

Sah-Jhan gets up. "And what does that make you?," he asks Angel as he throws a left hook. Angel ducks and lands a right hook. Sah-Jhan responds in kind, staggering Angel. He kicks Angel in the stomach, picks him up and slams Angel to the ground. Then he stomps on Angel's back. Angel stands and takes a left jab. He lands right and left crosses to Sah-jhan's face. The demon responds with a left hook, a right hook, another left and another right. Angel tumbles to the ground. Sah-Jhan picks Angel up and tosses him into the boulders opposite the stream. He walks over to finish Angel off. Angel looks up and tries to struggle to his feet. But out of nowhere, Mal grabs Sah-jhan from behind and throws him into the rocks.

"I'll tell you what it makes him," Mal says as he leaps at the demon and pounds his face with a flying right hook kick. "It makes him a person." Mal lands three right jabs and a left hook, knocking Sah-jhan down. "Which makes him a thousand times better than your sorry demon ass." Mal lifts Sah-jhan above his head and hurls him twenty feet through the air. First he kidnaps Angel. Then he tortures him. And now, he rescues him. Angel has yet another reason to hate Mal. Sah-jhan gets up as Mal approaches. He can't figure this vampire out.

"What is wrong with you? Do you have a soul?"

Mal laughs. Sah-jhan hits him with a right hook. Mal responds with a right hook, left roundhouse kick, right elbow and left hook, putting the demon on his back again. "No. But I do have a brain." He pulls Sah-jhan to his feet and head-butts him. "So I know where he stands. And I know where you stand. And I know that pretty soon, you won't be standing ever again." Mal lands a leaping right hook kick, followed immediately by a mid-air left roundhouse kick. He sends three left crosses into the demon's body. Sah-jhan grabs the much smaller vampire. Mal breaks free and kicks Sah-jhan in the groin. He falls to his knees. Mal pounds his face with two more left hooks before grabbing his head and snapping his neck. Sah-jhan's face falls to the dirt. Mal puts his left foot on top of the back of Sah-jhan's head and looks at Angel.

"This is why I don't believe in prophecies." Angel takes the stake in his left hand, staggers over to Mal and pounds his face with a right cross. Mal backs up. "Hey! My man! Is that any way to treat your brother?"

"You're not my brother," Angel spits out before kicking Mal in the stomach.

"The hell I'm not! Ain't we both part of the human family?"

"In case you haven't noticed, that was a long time ago for both of us." Angel tries to sweep Mal's legs with a right hook kick. Mal hops above it. He blocks Angel's left jab.

"You mean because you can do this?," Mal asks. Then he hurls Angel into the stream. Once Angel gets his head above water, he screams. It burns terribly. Especially inside all his open wounds. Like his flesh is being melted from the inside. Angel crawls out in agony, realizing the stream was filled with holy water. That he didn't expect from his vampire foe. Mal puts both hands in the stream, takes up some water in his cupped hands and pours it over his head. It is now that Angel notices the crucifix Mal is wearing. As if taking a bath in vampire acid wasn't enough. "What's the matter? You ain't down with Jesus," Mal blasphemously jokes. "I got friends in really high places." He takes the cross off and dangles it in Angel's face for a few seconds before putting it back on. Angel, with his red, bubbling skin, gets up one more time. Mal backs up thirty feet and laughs. "Look at you. Never giving up. I love that in an opponent. But trust me, right now it's a really good thing you can't look at yourself in the mirror." He is wearing shoes, so Angel's feet don't hurt. He goes bumpy, growls and rushes towards Mal. Mal calmly waits. When Angel arrives and tries to stake him, Mal rips the stake away, grabs Angel and throws him over Mal's shoulders. He sails through the air and falls head first into a pond at the bottom of a five foot-high waterfall that marks the terminus of the stream. This water actually is boiling. Angel screams. But then he notices that, other than the heat, the water doesn't hurt. His chest isn't being eaten away. Mal puts his foot on top of Angel's head and pushes him back under. Angel surfaces and crawls out. The red bubbles are gone. The bite marks on his right wrist are disappearing. This was just too much. Mal runs back, grabs his satchel and returns.

"Funny thing about holy water: you bring it to a boil, then add the resin from a certain plant that grows only in the carnivorous troll dimension, and you turn something that hurts vampires into something that heals them." He reaches into the satchel and tosses Angel a towel. Then he tosses Angel a red button-down shirt. "I hope you like this one. It is one of yours, after all." Angel can't take much more of this guy. Mal walks up to the giant rock. Sticking out of it is a needle. He pricks his right index finger on the needle and squeezes a drop of his blood down onto the rock. A swirly blue and purple portal appears. "Gndas. Sha-na. Kil-li. Untep. Zas." He walks back to Angel. "That's to make sure we end up in the right dimension." Angel doesn't move. "What's the matter? Don't you want to go home?" Mal grabs Angel's left forearm with his right hand and pulls him into the portal.

The next few seconds are exceedingly painful. Like Angel's body is being ripped apart while he is being launched into space. The g-forces alone would knock a human unconscious, to say nothing of the centrifugal pull with might tear them limb-from-limb. And then, they are back in Los Angeles. Angel looks around and takes a few seconds to recover from the journey. Angel doesn't recognize the specific intersection he's standing at, but the surroundings look like the area a few miles south of the hotel.

Giles, Dawn, Xander and Anya sit at the dining room table, reading the books Giles picked up that morning. Buffy and Spike stand around them. Faith's in the living room with the Potentials.

"A Titan," Spike says. "Sounds bloody important for something that couldn't even make the cut. They lost out to demons. Demons lost out to people. How scared can you be of something that went extinct?"

"I don't know about you, but if a T-rex came to town, I'd be pretty scared," Anya responds.

"Rare and unprecedented as this may sound, Spike does make something of a point," Giles very reluctantly concedes. "Nina is not a god. She's a creature that can be killed. That has been killed."

"Buffy killed her brother," Xander points out.

Buffy clarifies. "Actually, she killed her brother. But now I see why."

"Cuz she can't live until he dies?," Spike asks.

"It's more than that. What have we always feared? The Hellmouth opening. Our world being taken over by demons. Nina had that happen to her. She saw her world end. So she's reenacting that again and again."

"No offense Buffy," Xander begins, "but something tells me she's not some ghost searching for closure."

"No. She's searching for vengeance."

"You really think so?," Anya asks. "Because I didn't sense any common bond between the two of us."

"Maybe not vengeance in the strict sense. She's making people pay who have nothing to do with her suffering. It's like because her world got ruined, she's going to make sure everyone's world gets ruined. Why should she be the only one to suffer? At least that's how I think she works."

"Interesting profile," Anya starts off. "But how does it help us kill her?"

"Nina has feelings. Emotions. Regrets. Pain. We can use those things against her."

"Exploit her humanity," Giles muses. "How do you propose we do that?"

"I don't know yet. Give me time."

"Assuming that we have time."

"We do. Nina likes being alive. She kills us, her job's done, she dies."

"Is this why you want to patrol tonight?," Spike asks.

"I was wondering about that myself," Giles adds.

"Why? You're the one who told me about the recent killings. About how you suspected four vampires would rise tonight. We're not ready for Nina. She's not ready for us. So we might as well do some good."

Giles thinks about this. Buffy has a point. But Buffy doesn't know about Mal. "Okay. But I'll go with you."

"Shouldn't you stay here to do research?," Buffy asks as Dawn gets up from the table and goes to her room.

"I am your Watcher. And I think it would be good. For old time's sake."

"Fine," Buffy concedes.

"Try to stay away from the monsters. I wouldn't want to spend my whole night saving you from the baddies," Spike jokes.

Giles looks around. "Someone's missing. Where's Willow?"

"I think she's upstairs meditating," Buffy responds. "Building up her power for the next time she sees Nina."

"Good," Giles concludes as he looks into the kitchen and the living room. "Then everyone's accounted for."

At the Hyperion, everyone's in the lobby, trying to figure out what to do tonight.

"I still say we make an attempt to get Mal's blood," Wesley advocates. "It's our only hope for finding Angel."

"But how many of us are up to that?," Fred asks. "You're hurt. Charles is hurt. Connor's not at full strength."

"I'm still the strongest one here."

"Which unfortunately isn't saying much," Cordelia sadly comments.

"Whatever we do tonight, how bout we stick together," Lorne proposes.

"Splitting up didn't do us much good last night," Fred adds pointedly.

"Let's face it," Gunn says with a sigh. "We need help." Fred looks unhappy. She thinks he's referring to Gwen. Fred and Cordy do not want to work with her. Everyone sits there in silence for a few seconds. Then the phone rings. Lorne answers it.

"Angel Investigations, how may we help you?" Then he looks disappointed when he realizes it's just a personal call. "It's Dawn."

Connor runs over and takes the receiver. Hello lo - " he says before she cuts him off. Connor looks stunned. "He's where?"

"I don't know how I know that, but that's what my brain tells me he is. And in my vision, he's in trouble."

"But he's there?"

"Yes."

"That's great!"

"It is? I think Angel's life is in serious danger."

"Thank you. Thank you, Dawn. I love you. I love you so much. You're the best."

"You're welcome. I love you too, Connor." Dawn's confused. Even for Connor, this is strange behavior.

Connor hangs up the phone and looks at everyone else. "Guess who's back."


	31. Homecoming for Angel, Mal sizes up Buffy

"Isn't it good to be home?," Mal asks Angel. "I think I'll go tell your friends." Angel grabs Mal and tries to throw him. Mal pushes Angel's hands away. "Where is Telemachus? Here should be here to greet his father, to celebrate his return. I know! Eurybades hasn't told Telemachus of your return." Mal looks at Angel from ten feet away. Angel is still recovering from re-entry. "Do you ever think about Penelope? Do you ever wonder if the woman you love would wait twenty years for you? Would forsake the touch of another man for two decades on the slim hope that one day you would return? I think that deep down all men wonder if they have a Penelope. And if they know that they do not, they can never achieve true contentment."

"So that's why you do it," Angel responds. "That's why you make your slaves build all those little worlds. To compensate."

"No. I need something to pass the time. It takes a lot to stave off the boredom at my age. And, for the record, I have had my Penelope. Several, actually."

"But you can't love them. You can't love anything but yourself. Even if they love you, it doesn't count if you don't love them back, now does it?"

"You don't need a soul to love."

"Perhaps a creature without a soul could be capable of loving another. But not you. You're empty inside."

"He may kill me, but at least he won't be happy.' Is that your consolation?"

"No. My consolation will be looking at your face the moment before you turn to dust."

"Then you'll never be consoled. Too bad." Angel has regained enough of his strength to try to escape. But he senses that the two of them are not alone. Four large demons appear. One from every direction. Their skin is yellowish-brown. They have large claws and teeth, as well as an arc of small gray horns across the tops of their foreheads. The one in front of Angel looks at him with his orange and black eyes.

"I knew he was working for you!." The demon points at Mal, who stands to the right of Angel. "Is that the new vampire with a soul?"

"Okay fellas," Angel gingerly replies. "Let's settle down. I think you are mistaken. On multiple levels." Confusing Mal and Spike was absolutely off-the-charts so far as Angel was concerned. "This vampire does not have a soul. And he's definitely not working for me."

"Do you like the shirt I picked out for you?," Mal mischievously asks Angel. The demons close to within six feet of them. Mal puts his left arm around Angel's shoulders. "Angel. Buddy. I'd love to stay and help you kill this wretched demon scum. But I have a date." Mal leaps high in the air and lands in the driver's seat of his gray Porsche convertible, forty feet to Angel's right. He starts the engine and floors it, speeding away. Then he struggles with upshifting out of first, then second, gear. He's not used to driving a stick. But Mal fitfully lurches away, James Brown's "Superbad" blasting out of the speakers. Angel just shakes his head at his bad luck. The demons retract their claws. Finally, some good news.

"We know these won't kill you." The demon knocks Angel down to his knees with a right hook. He holds a wooden stake in his left hand. "But this will."

"Why does this day keep getting worse?," Angel asks himself. Getting killed for his mortal enemy's demon slaying – it didn't get much lower than that. The demons never feared or hated him this much before Mal came. What a blow to a champion's dignity. The demon slaps him with his left hand.

"Your friend killed my family," the one in front of him says.

"He force-fed me my sons' entrails!," the one on his left screams in his ear before punching him twice in the side of his head. The demons behind Angel and to his right grab his arms. Angel thinks about that last complaint. It's both impressive and deeply ominous. The demon in front of him grabs Angel's hair and turns his head upwards, so he's looking in the demon's eyes.

"Any last words, vampire?"

Angel goes bumpy. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry he let you live." The demon plunges the stake downwards. Angel sticks his neck out and grabs it between his teeth. He hops onto his feet and kicks the demon in the stomach. Then he swings his right foot around and nails the demon to his left in the head. "I know I wouldn't have." The other two demons let go of Angel's arms and start punching Angel in the back, pounding him into the ground.

Lorne drives Angel's car with the top down. Connor rides shotgun. Cordy sits up front in the middle. Fred's in the middle of the back seat, with Wesley to her left and Gunn to her right. "She did it," a smiling Connor blurts out. "She did it! We were lost, and helpless. And then she did it."

"Dawn did not DO anything," Cordelia reminds the lovesick boy.

"If it wasn't for Dawn, we'd still be back at the hotel, doing nothing," Connor responds.

"Are you sure it's the same spot?," Lorne asks.

"Dawn's sure," Connor replies.

"And she told you Angel was in great peril?," Wesley queries.

"Did she see who what was attacking him?," Gunn adds.

"She just saw their arms," Connor answers. "They didn't have claws are armor or anything special. But one of them held a stake."

"I was usually able to pick out a face," Cordy snipes. She knows the disparagement is uncalled for, but she and the others can only take so much of Connor's Dawny-To-The-Rescue delusion. Lorne floors the gas pedal and runs two red lights.

Angel stands up. He grabs the demon to his right and tosses him into the demon to his left. They both fall down. Angel nails the demon behind him with a left back kick and the demon in front of him with a right hook. Then he turns and knocks the demon behind him on his back with a right hook kick. Angel turns left, knocks one demon back with a left cross and the other one down with a right uppercut. But the lead demon hits the right side of his face with a left hook and pounds his chin with a right uppercut. Angel tries a right cross, but the demon blocks this with his left arm, pounds Angel's stomach with a right uppercut and knocks him on his back with a left roundhouse kick. Two of the demons grab his arms. The other demon picks up the stake and tosses it to their leader who takes it in his right hand. Angel kicks to keep him away. The demon brings his right foot down on Angel's right knee. It's a big foot – size 20 triple E, if this species wore sneakers – and the stomp hurts severely. The demon gets down on his left knee and raises his right arm. He puts his left hand around Angel's neck and pins his head to the ground.

"No wonder you've been too scared to show your face," the demon tells Angel before bringing the stake down. The third demon holds down his legs. There is nothing Angel can do. Then, when the stake is six inches above his heart, a crossbow bolt penetrates the demon's right hand and knocks the stake away. The demon screams and looks at the projectile lodged in his palm. "Arrrggghhh," he bellows as his slams his right palm onto Angel's chest in frustration. Angel's sigh of relief turns into a gulp of trepidation. Fortunately, the arrow's point stopped when it hit his sternum. And as the demon drives his palm down, it moves down the bolt's shaft. When the demon stands up. The bolt is out of his hand. The other demons turn to face the ambush. Angel's grateful for their stupidity. After all, the demon could have ripped the bolt out of his hand and stabbed it into Angel's heart. Fortunately, that never occurred to them.

Angel looks out and sees his car, his friends and his son. Cordy's crossbow lacks an arrow, indicating she was the one who fired over the windshield just as they arrived, thereby saving Angel's hide. He's grateful, though he wishes she had fired when the demon's hand wasn't so close to his chest. A twitch before firing, and she puts the bolt into Angel. The gang sees their boss, and are momentarily exuberant. Wesley charges the demon to Angel's right. Gunn hobbles to back him up. The demon sees his new enemies. But mostly he sees the high beams behind them. Lorne just wanted to increase visibility. He didn't know these guys were light sensitive. Wes pounds the startled demon three times with a baseball bat. He swings his right fist. Wes ducks. Gunn moves in, swings his ax and beheads the creature. Fred fires her crossbow at the demon to Angel's left. The arrow goes into his right eye. The demon yelps in pain. Angel stands up and snaps his neck. Meanwhile, Connor takes on the demon in front of Angel, the one who tried to stake him. Connor ducks under a right hook and responds with a left jab and right cross. He blocks the demon's left hook and snaps his wrist back. The demon howls out and lands a right jab to Connor's chest, knocking him back a step. Connor leaps at the creature and knocks it on its back with a quick and devastating flying right hook kick. Connor puts his right hand around the bewildered demon's throat.

"I wonder when my lover's gonna send me after something tough." The demon grabs Connor's right wrist with his right hand – his one good hand. Connor breaks his right thumb with his left hand, then snaps the demon's neck.

After Angel killed the demon Fred shot, the fourth demon came up behind him and pounded Angel's face with a right hook. Angel turns and responds in kind. It lands a powerful left cross to Angel's jaw. He counters with two left jabs, ducks the demon's neck right punch and kicks the demon in the chest with a right hook kick. The demon staggers backwards. Gunn swings his ax at it from the right. The demon ducks and sweeps Gunn's legs out. Wes strikes it in the back with his bat. The demon downs him with a backwards right-handed swat. Angel lands a straight right kick to the demon's mouth. But it blocks Angel's jab and pushes him to the ground. Angel quickly gets up, but before he can resume his attack, Connor's kicked the demon with a leaping left hook kick. The demon staggers and circles leftwards as Angel and Connor approach. It starts to laugh, weakly and fatalistically.

"You're lucky to be on his side," he says to Angel and Connor. "Otherwise," the weary demon pauses to chuckle a few times, "you better hope for a quick death." Angel steps forward, blocks the demon's final right hook, reaches out and snaps its neck. The fourth and final demon corpse falls to the ground. Angel turns to Connor and hugs him tight.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you." Connor feels a tad smothered, and is about to push Angel away when he lets go and looks at Wes, Gunn, Cordy and Fred, who are walking towards him. Angel spreads his arms out and pulls all four of them close. Fred finds her face against Angel's bare chest, which is new for her, and more than a little awkward.

"You made it. You survived him. Are you hurt?" Angel lets go. The gang recovers from the embrace and gets a good look at Angel.

"You aren't," Connor responds.

"Not a scratch on you," Wesley observes. They all look a little disappointed.

"You guys are hurt. Not too bad I hope. And, Wesley, you shaved. It's a good look. I like it."

"Tell it to Mal. He's the one who did it."

"Who's Mal?," Angel asks. They all look incredibly surprised.

"You two haven't even met?," Cordy asks.

Angel thinks for a few seconds. "Is that what he calls himself? The vampire? Black guy? Real long in the tooth, but doesn't look a day over thirty?"

"So you have met," Fred responds. "Obviously it didn't go so bad. Why are you all wet?"

"He hurt me. A lot. Him. And his demons. Dozens of them. With their weapons, and teeth, and feelers. But then he tossed me in this vat of boiling water that healed me. The wounds are gone. On the surface, at least. But I can still feel them inside." Angel staggers towards his car and notices no one's helping him. "It was torture. I swear. I fought like hell to get out of there. Worst twelve hours of my life."

"Twelve hours," Cordy parrots.

"That's all?," Connor asks.

Angel figures out there was some sort of time difference. "How long have I been gone?"

"Four days," Gunn replies. Angel's mildly relieved. He's glad it wasn't a week. Or a month.

"You have to tell me what's happened," Angel says as Cordy and Fred help him towards the car. "What has he done? I know he fought you all of you. He mentioned that. He sounded impressed. Said you were all very brave. Worthy opponents."

"Did he say who he thought was the bravest?," Cordy asks. Angel knows the answer is Gunn and Cordelia, as well as Connor, but he won't answer, lest he alienate Fred and Wes.

"All of you. He said I was lucky to have friends like you. And to have a son as strong and tough as Connor. Which, on the down side, makes it more fun for him to kill us. What do you know about this guy?"

Wesley goes through the basics. "Thirty five hundred years old. The greatest vampire on record. Killer of twenty Slayers. Two of whom he killed while blind-folded, though I doubt the veracity of that story."

"I don't," Angel responds.

"Evidently you are aware of Mal's prowess. However - "

"Trust me. He did it. Just trust me." Angel eases himself into the front passenger's seat. "Have I mentioned that I hate this guy more than anyone else in my entire life?"

"Motivation's always helpful," Lorne replies.

"And as soon as we're healthy, his days are numbered." Lorne starts the motor. Cordy sits next to Angel. Wes, Fred and Gunn sit in back.

"Connor, aren't you coming home with us?," a concerned Angel asks.

"There's no room for me. I'll walk."

Spike, Buffy, Faith and Giles walk through a cemetery. On a ridge five hundred feet behind them stands Nina. She's wearing a shiny black leather jumpsuit instead of her tradition dull navy blue suit. Her hair is much shorter. While before it went down nearly to her waist, now it extends just six inches below her shoulders. Also, she's dyed it bright red. Mal sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. At first she gasps, but then Nina laughs.

"How's my baby doll?," Mal asks.

"You surprised me. I should have heard you coming."

"You probably were too busy listening to those people."

"Are you kidding?," Nina responds. "I can't hear them from this far away." Mal rests his head on her right shoulder and looks down at Buffy and company. He and Nina make an interesting pair to look at. She, of course, would stand out anywhere. But Mal is far less striking. He's only an inch taller than her. His body isn't much to look at, at least when he's dressed. His face may be handsome, but unlike Nina's it's never going to stop traffic. Dressed in a sweat suit, he looks like a guy out for an evening jog. He blends in as easily as Nina sticks out. At least until he bares his fangs.

"You changed you hair."

"You like?"

"Let me see." He turns her around so they stand face-to-face "I love."

"Good. Because I did it for you. Blood Red. To match your eyes." Mal is genuinely touched by this gesture. He turns Nina around and hugs her tight from behind. She smiles, happily sighs and reaches her right hand back, rubbing the hair on top of Mal's head. Mal smiles, goes bumpy and bites the right side of her neck. She moans. He bites the left side of her neck with his lower jaw while his fangs are more than halfway across the other side of her neck. It's like he could devour it in one bite. For a Titan, whose nerve endings can sense pleasure instead of pain, depending on the intent, this feels like the world's greatest hickey. When Mal finishes, he removes his teeth and returns to his human face. Mal lies down on the grass, and Nina sits to his left. They kiss for a little while. Then he looks at Buffy.

"Are those your targets?"

"Yeah."

"I assume the old man is the reporter."

"No. He's what they call a Watcher.

"I know. They watch me kill a Slayer. Then they report on how I did it. Which is why I call them reporters."

"So Mal, how does your vampire compare to mine?"

"This vampire is emotional, unreliable and easily wounded romantically by women."

"How do you know so much about Spike?"

"Look at his hair. He dyes it yellow. Like that Slayer next to him. But it means something very different when done by a man. Did you call him Spike?"

"That's what they call him."

"Spike was Candace's name for her favorite stake. Odd for a vampire to choose the name of a Slayer's tool."

"Maybe that's because he is a Slayer's tool. But he hasn't always been a lackey. Before Buffy, he killed two Slayers."

"Him and a hundred other vampires. No one even bothers to notice until you've killed three. Only twelve have done that. Three is the divide between the warriors and those who got lucky. Is Buffy what you call the yellow-haired Slayer?"

"It's her name."

"Her real name?"

"Fraid so."

"Odd for a woman of such immense prowess to have been given such a silly name."

"I see you still have a thing for Slayers."

"One Slayer. One woman who happened to be a Slayer. And I would have wanted her even if she wasn't. This one is too tiny. And I don't like her hair. But she has the light. A torch of greatness burns inside her. Maybe one Slayer every century has the light. After a while, they were the only ones I even bothered killing."

"You don't know what you're talking about. Buffy is the spectator. Faith's the one I need."

"My senses are superior to yours. You know that."

"I don't care if you can see under her skin. There's no flame inside that body."

"Not an actual one. But I can see greatness. And Buffy has the torch. So does Angel. But that other Slayer, and this other vampire, they do not. She needs a better name. She really does. But whatever you want to call her, the one with the yellow hair is the only one who matters. Kill her, and the others will crumble."

"If she's so special – which, I'm not sure she is – wouldn't it be more fun to kill everyone else and make her watch?"

"It's just as fun to make them watch her die. And far easier. You can't turn your back on that one. If you do, she'll surprise you. It's in her nature. You cannot give the great ones that chance."

"You really think Buffy's great?"

"Except for the trifling name."

"Don't you think I'm greater?"

"Many, many, many times greater. And a million times more attractive." Mal runs his right hand up her left leg. They kiss and grope for a little while. Then Mal sits up.

"What now?," Nina asks. "They can't hear us."

"But I can hear them. And they are talking about you."

"Really? What are they saying?"

"Buffy thinks you dress like a tramp."

"That little bitch! Wait. Are you making this up?"

"The Watcher knows what you are. And who you are."

"About freaking time. I practically had to lay out my whole life story to make them figure it out."

"He believes he knows how to kill you. No. They know how to kill your kind."

"Big deal. Your enemies know how to kill you. Always have. But you're still around."

"Knowing and doing are two very different things."

"Between thought and expression lies a lifetime."

"Did you come up with that?," Mal asks Nina.

"It's from one of the poets around here. You like it?"

"Yes. Strangely. Since I'm no fan of poetry unless it's set to music."

"All of his are. Here's one I like," Nina says before launching into song. "If you close the door, the night can last forever. Leave the sunshine out, and say hello to never. Oh the people are dancing and they're having such fun; I wish that could happen to me. But if you close the door, I'll never have to see the day again."

"Not bad."

"The song, or my singing?"

"The song. Your singing was great." Nina smiles and they canoodle for a bit more in the grass. "I'll never have to see the day again.' Was that written by a vampire?"

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't. But he dressed a little like Spike. Always in black. But he's way cooler than Spike, of course." Granted, even Spike would have a hard time objecting to being called less cool than Lou Reed.

While Nina was singing, Spike's head darted from side to side. "Someone's watching us." He looks around, anxiously trying to spot the voyeur.

"You really think Nina is spying on us?," Giles asks. "That doesn't seem like her style."

"What is it?," Buffy asks Spike. "Can you hear something? Smell someone?"

"I think I heard noises. I'm not sure. But I have bloody strong feeling we're being watched."

"So you're paranoid," a skeptical Faith concludes.

"There are people out to get us," Spike replies.

"True," Giles responds. "But they don't make a habit of lurking in the shadows." Giles does take a few good looks around, more to try to spot Mal than Nina. Meanwhile, she begins to wonder how Mal can pick up so much from 500 feet away.

"I still can't believe you can hear them from here. To say nothing of spotting Spike's and Buffy's dark roots. I didn't know vampires had really good sight on top of everything else."

"They don't. I do. And both senses become better over time. Probably because of all the blood I drink."

"When did you give up sleep?"

"I haven't slept for one thousand years. But it started a thousand years before that. First I slept every second night. Then every third. Then once a week. Then one day every month. Eventually, I couldn't get to sleep even if I wanted to."

"Do you?"

"Sometimes, when I'm bored. But certainly not with you around." They resume fooling around, but Nina still has some questions.

"What are they talking about now? Is it me?"

"Sorry. They wonder when the vampires will rise. They don't even know they are at the wrong grave. I can hear four vampires beginning to stir beneath the soil. One of them is pounding the lid of his coffin. They won't see him emerge. Watch." Nina and Mal hold hands as they observe. Nina snuggles up to Mal. Within a few seconds, a vampire crawls out of the ground one hundred feet behind Buffy and company. They hear his footsteps coming towards them, and turn to see their first kill of the night. He charges. Buffy, Faith and Spike do likewise. Giles keeps an eye out for any surprises.

"So this is what Slayers do?," Nina asks. "Bore-ring."

"Such foolishness," Mal exclaims. "Where are his survival instincts? If he ran away, he very well could have escaped. But no. He attacks! Outnumbered, and he attacks."

"Isn't he hungry?," Nina asks.

"Victims don't walk around graveyards at night. Hunters do. And they weren't afraid when he attacked. That should be a signal that these are definitely not easy prey. The sad thing is, experienced vampires make the same mistakes. Everyone thinks you set an ambush by taking a hostage back to your lair and waiting for the target to show. But that gives the advantage of surprise back to your enemy. What you do is stash the hostage at your lair, go outside and wait along the enemy's approach route. Then you jump them when they least expect it."

"Quiet," Nina says as she puts her left hand under his shirt and rubs Mal's chest. "I'm trying to watch."

"You watch with your ears and your mouth?"

"It's distracting. I'm watching them. And I'm feeling and smelling you. That's a lot to take in at once."

"It's not a fight, darling. It's an execution. They should have brought their friends. Built a grandstand. At least with the Romans, there was always a chance the condemned wouldn't die right away. Sometimes the lions lost their appetite. It's a pity the next vampire hasn't already risen. He could have gotten away while they were finishing their first kill."

"There's another?," Nina asks excitedly. She wants to see her enemies fight, and values the chance to see Slayers in their work environment.

"Three more. Two have yet to awake, though I can hear their limbs twitching. That always happens before they're fully conscious. But the one they were waiting for, he's broken through his coffin. Now that the other vampire is dead, his enemies are free to focus on the unfortunate fellow. It's a man. I can tell because they are always erect when they wake. Most of the time, it goes down within a few seconds. His hasn't yet. That much hurt as he climbs up. It's slowing him down. Now it's retreating. He resumes the struggle to surface." As Mal gives his play-by-play, Buffy and the others stroll around, looking at the remaining fresh graves. They don't see anything, since there's nothing to see.

"This is bull!," Nina yells out as she playfully punches Mal's left shoulder. "You're putting me on! You've been putting me on this whole time."

"Nonsense. Buffy said you dressed like a tramp. I never would."

"You were pretty critical yesterday."

"That had to do with color coordination, not how revealing your outfit was. I had no problem with how much skin you showed. Only with what you were covering the rest of your skin with. Look! A hand. A right hand. They haven't noticed yet. They probably will when his head comes up right . . . now!" Mal timed it perfectly. "Buffy noticed first. The vampire should have. I'm sure Angel would have." At least Angel would like this aspect of Mal.

"Angel?," Nina asks with a laugh. "And you think Buffy's a silly name?"

"I know," Mal concedes. "If he names himself Angel, and he cannot fly, he should at least be able to sing. Actually, I don't know if he can sing. I didn't try make him. I'm sure, he would have refused, no matter how badly I beat him. He's extraordinarily stubborn. And taciturn. Like his son."

"Does his son have the light?," Nina asks.

"Yes. His is very bright. But it flickers. So it's not always there. I have never seen anyone like that. As if his Creator cannot decide if he should even exist. Very strange. Though not as strange as two Slayers."

Nina doesn't buy this. "Two Slayers is easy to explain. Vampire having a baby, that's impossible."

"Drain them, snap their neck, chop their head off. It's not so hard. They're already dead. You've done the hard part. Now comes the payoff. But someone didn't bother. Someone so stupid that it's a miracle he could even walk, let alone kill a Slayer. Miracles I understand. Negligence on this scale I cannot."

"Wow!," Nina exclaims. "The old guy punched him. Did you see that? I like him so much better than the vampire."

"He doesn't care for the vampire that much either," Mal responds. "He cares for Buffy. About the other Slayer he is indifferent. Watchers feel an urge to protect their Slayers, even though they cannot. He feels the urge to protect that one. I think he is jealous of the vampire."

"Why?," an intrigued Nina asks. "You think she's really taking it from Spike? And the Watcher wants a piece! That's disgusting. Isn't it?" She's not entirely certain about human mating habits.

"It would be. But that's not how he feels about her."

"Spike?"

"The Watcher. He doesn't trust Spike. The Buffy girl does. She cares about him. You can see it when they are fighting. Even when they're not. She looks at him more than she looks at the other two put together. And he only looks at her."

"So they are doing it?"

"She hasn't. Not for quite a while."

"How the hell do you know that? Please tell me it's not smell. Cause that's just, eww."

"Her walk. You can tell from a person's walk. If you know what to look for. It's about reading attitude. Mojo, as they call it. The other Slayer's had intercourse rather recently. The Watcher hasn't. But he expects to quite soon. Men can reveal expectation when they walk."

"I wonder who the lucky woman is?," Nina asks herself, running through her mind all the people in Buffy's house. Only Anya seemed to fit the bill. Lucky her, Nina thinks Then Nina gets back to the Slayers. "So you think Buffy's the uptight one?"

"I hope not. For her own sake. The great ones always a strong animal side. Can't be great without plenty of passion and ferocity."

"So she wants to get wild with Spike?"

"Or someone worthier. Most of the great Slayers never find someone worthy. That sort of talent is rare."

"Tell me about it," Nina responds as she kisses Mal's neck. "So do I walk different? Have you been walking different?"

"Completely," Mal responds. He kisses her. Then he stands up and grabs his bow. Nina's upset.

"You brought that on our date?"

"It fit in the car. And you never know when it can be useful."

"You better not shoot any of them."

"Too easy. I'm aiming for a vampire."

"Spike? But I want to rip his guts out. Especially if Buffy cares about him."

"No. A vampire who hasn't risen." Mal looks at the two fresh graves. Buffy and Faith stand around one, blocking his shot. The other grave is 150 feet away from them and 600 feet from Mal. He guesses which direct the head is facing. He takes into account the fact that he's shooting downward, calculates the angle of entry and guesses how deep the body is buried, thereby figuring out where to aim. Mal pulls his arrow back, waits a few seconds, then fires. It whizzes through the air and plunges into the dirt, completely disappearing beneath the surface, like it was swallowed up. A small puff of dust rises up from the ground. Mal knows he's hit the mark. "Impressed?"

"Mildly," Nina coolly responds.

Spike and all the others heard the arrow whizzing by, but they couldn't see anyone. And they couldn't spot any projectile on the ground. So they conclude it must have been a bird or a plane or something like that. Giles scans the surroundings, but Nina and Mal are not well lit, and he can't spot them, especially from so far away. "So I can't kill either Slayer?," he asks Nina.

"That would be tampering. I can't let outsiders interfere."

"One isn't worth the effort. But it would be fun to kill two at once."

"Don't even think about it."

"How about the vampire? Can I at least rip his head off?"

"Technically, yes you can. He's neither a Slayer nor a Potential Slayer. But, if you did that here, Buffy would attack you, you'd have to fight her, and that would be tampering."

"If I knew there were two, I would have come three nights ago, which was one night before you arrived. After killing them, I would have given Faith's body to Louis and Victor so they could have a taste. Then I would have drained Buffy's blood and fed it to my vampire while he was in the arena. That would have boosted his strength." Mal has no idea how diabolical that would have been. Still, he would like to have some practice to warm up for tomorrow night. "I can't even beat both Slayers up? Put a scare into them?"

"No, because that would help me by weakening them."

"Can I at least kill some people in town? I'm starving. And it would confuse the Slayers. Throw them off your trail."

"Sure. All you can eat. Outsiders aren't my concern."

Mal smiles. "Perfect. See you in a bit?"

"Don't keep me waiting."

"I'm a fast eater." Nina stands up, gives Mal a big goodbye kiss, then disappears. Mal takes another look at Buffy. He's tempted. But he respects Nina too much to disobey her. After all, how would he feel if Nina pounded on Angel and Connor?

Back at home, Angel had a few big cups of blood as he told Wes, Gunn, Fred, Cordy and Lorne about his time abroad. They told Angel what Mal had accomplished in his absence. When the blood had made Angel feel a little rejuvenated, he went upstairs to find Connor. Angel wanted to let his son know that this was exactly the wrong time for Connor to return to acting surly.


	32. Show Off

Angel enters Connor's bedroom. He's lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Dawn's happy you're okay," Connor reports.

"At least someone is," Angel pointedly responds.

"What's that mean?," Connor asks defensively. "We're all happy."

"You don't look too happy."

"It's not because of you. The world doesn't revolve around you." Connor stands up, walks over to the window and looks out, which means he's turned his back on Angel. He slowly walks over to his son.

"I know what happened. What Mal did while I was away. And I know how tough it is to face him alone."

"I'm used to getting beat up," Connor dejectedly responds. "I can take it. But this was different. I had people counting on me. And I let them down."

"I let them down," Angel retorts, trying to cheer Connor up.

"I know," Connor replies. Angel's a bit taken aback by the sudden shift from pity to blame. "You left me alone, fighting something I couldn't beat, protecting people who don't trust me. Or even like me that much."

"That's not true. They like you. Most of them. Some, more than others, maybe."

"Do you know how hard it is when everyone's depending on you but no one's by your side?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here. But I'm back." Connor turns around and walks past Angel towards the door.

"You weren't the one I missed." Connor goes into the hallway. An obviously hurt Angel follows.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Connor stops and turns around.

"You know what it means. You know who I'm talking about." Angel sighs in frustration and exasperation.

"No offense to her, but how is Dawn going to help you kill Mal?"

"Who said anything about me killing him? He's in your city."

"You want to run? You think that's the answer?"

"What's this place ever done for me? Why should I die trying to save people I don't even know? Haven't I done enough already?"

"It's never enough, Connor. It never ends. That's the nature of evil."

"For you, yeah. But you're making up for all the people you killed. What did I do? Why should I suffer? That's all I've ever done: suffer for other people's problems. I'm through being controlled, and used."

"You're right, son. You do have a choice. No one's going to make you fight."

"Good," Connor tells Angel before walking towards the stairs. Angel runs after Connor, grabs his left arm and spins him around. Connor hits Angel with a right hook. "Liar! So much for letting me have a choice."

"I need to tell you one more thing before you go. Then you're free to do whatever you want. I promise."

"Go ahead," Connor listlessly responds"

"Do you really think Mal's going to let you get away? He came here to kill us. Both of us. And when he's done with me, he'll come after you. And he'll find you. No matter where you go. In this world or any other. He'll track you down, and he'll kill you. When Mal wants something, he won't stop until he gets it. Or, until someone stops him. That's your only option." Connor thinks about this for several seconds. He looks down at the floor, realizing his father has a point.

"Why me? Why, always, me?"

"I'm sorry Connor. I didn't bring you into the world for this."

"You didn't bring me into the world at all."

"You know what I mean. This isn't what I wanted. I wanted to protect you. To keep you safe. But I failed. Yet one thing hasn't changed. I'll still lay down my life before I'll let anything rob you of yours."

"You're not even alive." Angel slaps Connor's face with his right hand as punishment for being so obnoxious. Connor goes to punch him but Angel blocks it. He grabs both his son's wrists.

"I'm serious. Just because I haven't always succeeded doesn't mean I'm ever going to stop trying." Angel pushes Connor back. The boy calms down. "I don't care if you're mad at me, or if you think the world's given you a raw deal, or even if you don't love me and wish I were dead."

"I never said - "

"Shut up!," the newly assertive Angel commands. "None of that matters. There's only one thing that matters: I can't kill Mal without you. And you're the only person on this planet who can help me. Without you, I'm dead. And without me, you're dead. And then, well, Mal can do whatever he wants to anyone you care about."

"You really mean that?," Connor asks.

"Every word."

"The part about me being the only one?," Connor asks with a smile.

"Especially that part."

"What about Buffy?," a smirking Connor inquires.

"Slayers are old hat for Mal. He came here for the best fight he could find. And that's you and me. Together."

Connor pauses for a few seconds. Angel can tell it's sunk in. "So, after we kill him, you'll let me drive your car?," Connor jokes. He couldn't let the moment become too sentimental. God forbid if the two of them bonded.

"Sure," Angel responds with a smile and a shrug. It didn't seem like much to ask for, given the stakes. "Now let's get going."

"You wanna fight him already?"

"No. We need to do some recon. Check on what Mal's been up to." The two of them walk down the stairs.

"Can I have my own car?," Connor asks.

"I guess," Angel haltingly responds. "If you pay for it. And it's legal. No stealing cars from vampires that they stole from someone they killed."

"I save your life, and you won't even buy me a car? What a jip."

"Look," Angel begins, realizing that Connor is trying to exploit the moment. "If someone bought us a car every time we saved their life - "

"Maybe they should," Connor jokes. "By the way, how did you get your car?"

"Let's get off the subject of cars for a while," Angel says as they walk outside.

Mal strolls around the supermarket. He finds it very large and bright. To him, the ceilings seem unusually high. Then there is the muzak gently wafting down from the speakers. He can't understand why the store seeks to torture its customers. Mal spends a few minutes trying to locate the man who controls the music, so he can kill the torturer in an especially gruesome manner. But he can't find the music's source. Oh well. He won't have to listen to it much longer. Mal heads over to the butcher's section. A young man is putting away empty metal bins. He spots Mal, who wears gray sweatpants, black sneakers, a white tank top and a gray hooded sweatsuit jacket with the hood down and the jacket zipped three-quarters of the way up. He also wears a small silver cross around his neck.

"I can't take this music," Mal says to the man. "It makes me want to do awful things to whoever created it."

The man laughs. "Tell me about it. And I have to listen to this crap ten hours a day. Talk about torture."

Mal laughs. "Fresh meat?," he asks with the smile.

"Sorry. We closed an hour ago."

"I don't think so."

"Sorry. Open at nine. Close at eight. You can come in tomorrow morning and -" As the employee carried the bins back to the storeroom, he looked into the convex mirror behind the counter, and saw nothing. He glances back at where Mal was. The man screams and drops the bins.

Angel and Connor hit the Orpheum Theater. "Spartacus" is playing on the screen, but there's no sound. The auditorium is empty, just like the lobby. Angel finds a few papers scattered around. He picks them up and tries to read them by the light of the screen. Angel tells Connor to help him grab any more pages lying on the floor. They snap up about a dozen. Then Angel looks up to the projection booth. Someone had to be playing the movie.

The go into the lobby, where Angel sorts through the sheets and tosses away duplicates. The fragments appear to spell out some colonization plan. The door to the projection roof is locked, but Connor easily kicks it open. The two of them rush upstairs and burst in upon the mild-mannered, middle-aged vampire Petey. He is understandably startled.

"Well, well, well," Petey begins. "If it isn't the men of the hour." Angel picks Petey up out of his chair and slams him into the wall. "Hey! Hey!!," Petey exclaims. "Can't we sit down and talk like civilized adults?" Angel punches him in the gut and walks back over to Connor. Petey groans in pain.

"Looks like your master has some big plans," Angel declares. By now, Petey has recovered from the blow.

"All of them after your deaths." Connor's about to rush the vampire, but Angel holds him back. "Ergo, no point in telling you two the details."

"You're right," Angel responds. "And since Mal already wants to kill us, what reason do we have not to kill you? What possible threat can you make that would deter us?"

"Morale," Petey responds as he calmy sits back down. "You can't ice the big guy, so you take out one of his hapless flunkies. Only underscores your weakness. Like the soldier who's scared of the enemy soldiers, so he leaves the battlefield and goes into town to butcher the women and children. The sort of thing that makes a true warrior feel like a real loser."

"In other words, you're not worth it," Angel remarks. "So where's your master?"

"He has a place at the end of Mandeville Canyon. One of those modernist boxes. But don't know why you'd want to seek Mal out. Unless you're looking to end things quickly. No more anxious waiting."

"We're just being polite," Angel nebulously responds.

"Suit yourself," Petey responds. "By the way, do you wonder about what he'll do with your corpses? Because Mal is a very creative guy. Also, you can imagine how many vampires want to sink their teeth into sonny boy. He could end up being nothing but holes."

"Let's stop wasting our time with trash," Angel says to Connor as he restrains his son. They turn around and walk out. Connor flings a stake over his shoulder. Petey holds up an empty film reel and blocks it. "Relax," Angel tells Connor as they head down the stairs. "Just imagine how fun it will be to see him again. After Mal's dead."

On the way home, Mal stops off at a Jack in the Box in the San Fernando Valley. He kills everyone: customers and employees. Usually, he prefers to leave a witness or two to tell the tale. But sometimes it's nice to leave only corpses and let the police scratch their heads, trying to figure out who perpetrated the atrocity. Silence can be very powerful. Other than that, he doesn't stop. In fact, he barely gets below fifth gear. Mal races down the Pacific Coast Highway at 120 miles per hour. When he gets to the Palisades, he slams on the breaks and shifts straight into neutral. The Porsche screeches to a stop, and the transmission falls out of the chassis. Mal leaps out of the vehicle and sees Nina standing at the edge of the cliff. He smiles.

"I think you broke it," Nina tells him, pointing at the expensive car.

"I can get another," he casually responds. "Machines can be replaced. Unlike more important things." He caresses her left cheek with his right hand and pulls her head towards his. She stops an inch from his mouth and puts her right index finger between their lips. "First, promise me you didn't touch her."

"I'm saving all my touches for you, baby," Mal jokes, putting his hands on her hips pulling her closer. Mal left the key in, and Prince's "Sexy Motherfucker" still blares out of the speakers.

"So you liked my suggestion?," Nina asks.

"Oh yeah."

"I knew you would."

"A little after my era, but the boy can play."

"The only thing I don't like is how he changed his name to that symbol that can't be pronounced. That's a bit crazy."

"Can't be pronounced?" Mal goes back to the car and picks up the cd case. "You mean this thing? It says Nilz Arn-Shurash."

"What?"

"Nilz Arn-Shurash. It's Kelgik. From the Magada dimension. Same place Little Richard's was from."

"The Artist-symbol-guy isn't from this world?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Not really. What's it mean? The name."

"Let me think. Nilz means "son." Arn is "most high." And shurash can mean "leader," or "ruler." "Son of the highest ruler."

"Prince?" Nina slaps Mal's chest. "You're kidding!"

"No. I'm pretty sure that's how you translate it. There you go. He didn't change his name. He just went back to its original spelling."

"I wonder if I should tip him off, tell him to go home before I ruin this world."

"You could ask him to do an all-day concert for us while we are," Mal smiles, "having a performance of our own. We can make him play the piano and sing while we're on top of it. And if he refuses, we can threaten to kill him. Who would say no to that?"

"Would you really do that?"

"Kill a good musician? Never. You?"

"Couldn't do it. And that's the problem."

"But he doesn't know know we'd never go through with it. Once he sees what we're capable of, no way he'd refuse. And wouldn't that be great?"

"Very hot. Speaking of which, you ready? Or do you need something more to eat?"

"All filled up. Ready to dive right in."

"Just what I like to hear." Nina unzips her jumpsuit and lets it fall to the ground. She doesn't have anything on underneath. Mal quickly tears off his clothes. They stand at the cliff's edge, looking sixty feet down at the surf crashing into the rocks. Nina takes Mal's right hand in her left. "Let's go." They both leap off the cliff and gracefully dive into the ocean, disappearing under the waves.

Four miles to the north, Angel and Connor stand outside Mal's place. "This is a pretty famous house," Angel tells his son. "Designed by Richard Neutra in the early fifties. Mal definitely has taste."

"Doesn't make him any less evil," Connor responds. Unlike Angel, he hasn't tried to create a more complete and well-rounded profile of their adversary.

"I know. But it helps tell us figure out where he'll strike. It's important to know what your enemies value." Angel opens the unlocked front door and they both enter. Angel flips on the lights and sees the wholesale destruction. "I guess he didn't care for the previous owner's decorator."

"He trashed it. Real tasteful." The two of them walk around. Angel sees the destroyed balcony, the cracks in the concrete, the holes in the windows. No way Mal could have had that much of a struggle to take the place over. As Angel snoops, Connor sniffs.

"Do you smell him?"

Angel pauses for a few seconds. "Yeah. I noticed his scent."

"There's someone else," Connor reports.

"Probably the old owner. It hasn't been that long."

"No. It's not human. And it's all over. Just like his scent. They're together. He stayed here with someone else."

Angel's nose isn't as discriminating as Connor's when it comes to scents he's never smelled before, so he'll take his son's word on that. "A girlfriend?"

"Maybe."

"Or just some vampire he's banging on the side. He still fights and hunts alone."

"So she doesn't matter?"

"I wouldn't worry." Angel looks around the place and gets distracted. "Such high ceilings. But why did he rip out the chandelier?" Spike would be glad to explain. And fantasize. And perhaps ask Mal for pointers. But Angel's not big on sex that causes catastrophic property damage. "One thing's for sure – he's not coming back here." Connor sniffs some more as they walk out. He finds the second scent to be extremely peculiar.

Buffy waited until 11 for the fourth vampire to rise. This was one of the reasons Mal dusted him. His idea of a playful practical joke. What he did after leaving the cemetery was anything but playful. And the next morning, Giles and the others awoke to the jolting headlines.

"I don't believe this," Xander confesses as he sits at the breakfast table in the kitchen with Giles, Willow and Anya. "Even in Sunnydale, it's still – twenty eight dead! The Mayor didn't eat that many people. And Angel sure as hell didn't. Not in one night."

"I took out twelve in one afternoon," Anya reminds them. "Granted, they were taken back later on. And Spike killed ten over a week. You know what? I'm surprised this hasn't happened before. A gang of vampires, or a bunch of demons wanting to make a name for themselves. Buffy can't be everywhere at once. But, since it hasn't happened, it is surprising that it has. In the sense of violating the accepted norms of demon underachievement."

"Maybe it wasn't a demon," Willow proposes. "What about Nina? Like you said, prove Buffy can't be everywhere at once. It could be a taunt. An extremely bloody taunt. Which is just up her alley."

"Exposing vulnerabilities. Goading Buffy into a fight," Giles muses. "But we need to know how they were killed. What sort of wounds they have. The papers are even sketchier than usual."

"Probably happened right before their deadline," Anya suggests. "It's too big a story not to mention, but they don't have time to learn the details."

"Look at these eyewitness statements," Giles points out. "A blur. A gray and black blur.' No one could see a face. Or even give the most rudimentary description. "

"It," Xander comments. "As in one?"

"At each location," Giles answers. "But the killings occurred at five places all around the same time. Twelve at the Stop-n'-Shop. Five at the video store. Four at a Rite-Aid. Two inside a gas station, though a man who was outside pumping gas was unscathed. And four inside the bus station."

"All indoors," Willow notes. "Any pattern to the sites?"

"Only that they are all within one mile of each other," Giles answers.

"So let me get this straight," Xander begins. A gang of five things comes to town, splits up, makes a bunch of quick killings, and then runs away?"

"That would be the simplest explanation," Giles responds.

"Doesn't mean it's the right one," Anya reminds.

"I still wouldn't rule out Nina," Willow argues. "Or, the First could have more ubervamps. Or, it could be the Reapers. They're fast. I'm sure they could chop a lot of people up real quick."

"Except the First has never gone after the general population," Giles counters.

"News flash: They're Evil," Xander responds. "The ultimate evil."

"Which means we can't put anything past them," Anya adds. "Even a prolific but conceptually pedestrian massacre."

"I need to see the bodies," Giles insists.

"Ooh. We could break into the morgue again," Willow suggests.

"Or, I could call the Mayor and see what she knows."

"The Mayor?," Xander instinctively asks Giles before figuring it out. "Ohhh. Right. You mean your girlfriend."

Estella came to work early this morning. Giles gets a hold of her on her cell phone in her office. "I don't know what to tell you," she says to Giles. "No. I do. But I don't know how to say it. These attacks were . . . different."

"In what way?"

"First of all, the assailant was invisible. No. It was unfilmable. The surveillance cameras show people being killed. They don't show what is doing the killing."

"But the attacker was visible?"

"Yes. People saw something. None of them are sure what. On the one hand, it sounds like this thing's fast. On the other, the people were terrified. You can't expect them to make sense of something like this."

"This may come across as indelicate. But have you seen the bodies? Or read the preliminary autopsy reports?"

"As you can expect, I have seen my share of bodies over the years. But these, these were different. There are the bite marks."

"Bite marks. They were mauled?" At least Giles can rule out Nina.

"No. The wounds were more precise. Like the killers carefully chose them. We're not dealing with wild beasts. Though we are dealing with something that can bite like a wild beast. Also, there appears to be substantial blood loss in most victims. But we don't know why. The wounds are large enough that the people could have bled to death after being bitten."

"Any chance they were drained?"

"It's possible. But these aren't vampire bites. Severed heads. Arms. Legs. This thing can tear your limbs off."

"Which doesn't sound like the work of vampires," Giles concedes. "Would it be possible for me to take a look?"

"Let me think. I'm pretty sure I could sneak you in about an hour and fifteen minutes from now. The ME's worked all night. He'll need a rest. And the people from the county won't show up until ten thirty."

"Thank you. I know this is unorthodox, and entirely irregular. I have no business being there. So I appreciate this."

"Please, Rupert. You're the only one who could make sense of it. I'd be a fool to keep you out." Giles gets off the phone and returns to the table.

"Are we going to the morgue?," Anya asks.

"I am going to the morgue."

"So only the boyfriend gets to see the dead bodies? That's not fair."

"Did she tell you any inside information?," Willow wonders.

"Not much," Giles fibs. "She hasn't taken a look. But after I have, I promise to give you all a thorough and, most likely gruesome, report." Giles doesn't want to worry them with comments about severed limbs.

"Did someone say gruesome?," Dawn asks as she enters the kitchen to grab a quick bite before going to school. The others clam up, reverting to their old instinct to protect Dawn from unpleasant, dangerous demony things.

"We were just talking about Nina. And the First. You know, rehashing. Nothing new, Dawny," Willow reassures her. Dawn can tell they're hiding something. Then again, she's also hiding something. So Dawn just gives them a suspicious look before heading out the door.

The bodies take up all the remaining drawers at the morgue, with eight left out on the tables that were brought in to hold them. Giles is very intrigued by what he finds. When he shines a light into the wounds, Giles can make out two tusk-like teeth that extend several inches beyond the other bite marks. So the assailant had fangs of some sort. Albeit, fangs more than twice as long as a normal vampire's. The locations of the wounds was interesting. Most of of them were near major blood vessels. It crushed sternum bones to get at the aorta just above the heart. Leg and arm wounds all seemed to provide access to arteries. It appeared that after biting off arms, the attacker bit into the opening itself. No flesh had been eaten. So the only explanation could be that the attacker was after the blood. There were other signs. Parts of bodies were collapsed, like a juice box that's been sucked on to get those last few drops. Also, many bodies had bite marks across the spinal cord, indicating the attacker killed or paralyzed them with a single bite. However, these bodies had other bites. Which meant the attacker went back to feed off them. After ten corpses, Giles had seen enough, both in the sense that it was an unpleasant task and in the sense that further investigation wasn't going to show him anything new. First, Giles went to Estella's office and called Wesley, who was in his apartment.

"Rupert. This is, certainly, a surprise. Is something wrong?"

"Living on the Hellmouth, something's always wrong. Was Mal in Los Angeles last night?"

"At one point, definitely."

"What I mean is, were there any more killings?"

Wesley looks back at the morning paper. "Not in the city proper. Which is unusual. For this week. There were more than a dozen suspicious deaths at a restaurant in the northern suburbs. Why do you ask?"

"I have reason to suspect Mal was in Sunnydale last night."

"Really?," Wes asks with a gulp. "What reason? Did Buffy see something?"

"No. None of us did. But something murdered twenty eight people. It went store-to-store, killing at will. To put it bluntly, could Mal handle that kind of volume?"

"He has to. Mal drains upwards of forty humans a night."

"Interesting," Giles nervously replies. "Now his wounds. Are they deeper than most vampires'?"

"Considerably. His fangs are at least six centimeters in length. Possibly more."

"And can he bite off limbs? And heads?"

"Yes. I've seen the corpses myself. His jaws are strong enough to crush bone."

"And he bites in unusual places?"

"The chest? The back? Going for the aorta or renal artery?"

"It's him. It has to be. Whatever killed this people was obviously feeding off of them. It must be Mal. Did you know that he can't be filmed?"

"Excuse me?"

"Or, videotaped, to be more precise. The surveillance cameras show people being bitten. But it doesn't show what's biting them."

"Obviously I've never tried to tape him. So this is news to me. Why would that be the case? As a rule, vampires can certainly be filmed."

"But consider the optical illusion which makes it possible for them to have no reflection. It's really not so different from what would be needed to keep from showing up on videotape. Just a slightly tweaked optical signal could do the trick."

"I suppose some vampires could be immune to filming, but no one's noticed on account of the fact that most vampires are never filmed. Or, it could have something to do with his age. Though, for our needs, I suppose that tidbit if merely trivial."

"True. What time was that attack you mentioned in the suburbs?"

"Let me check." Wesley flips through the paper. "Around 10:30."

"The tapes show the attacks in Sunnydale occurred between nine and 9:30. Mal must have returned."

"Which is good news for your side."

"Trust me. With have enough to worry about even without him. There is still the question of why he came here. It is a bit out of the way. Certainly there were plenty of victims left in Los Angeles." Giles pauses. "We were out when he attacked. Buffy, myself and Faith. He could have attacked us. We were at a cemetery. He would know where Slayers spend their time. There was nothing to stop him from completely taking them by surprise. Hold on one minute. Spike was sure we were being watched. Which, by itself, is worthless. But taken in conjunction with Mal's confirmed presence in town. And that strange, high-pitched whistle we all heard."

"Excuse me. Whistle?"

"Yes."

"Did the sound change pitch? As if it were caused by something moving extremely fast?"

Giles thinks for a few seconds. "Yes. Yes, I suppose it did."

"His arrow."

"His what?"

"Mal has an incredibly strong bow. More of a hand-held, rapid-fire catapult. He uses it to deadly effect. The arrows can shoot clear through a thin sheet of steel. You can only imagine what they do to humans who are out in the open." Giles gasps. "I'm sorry, Rupert. I didn't mean to."

"You're saying he could have killed us all before we even knew what was happening?"

"More or less. So if he wasn't firing at you, what was he firing at?"

"That vampire. The one we thought didn't rise. It must have risen, and Mal shot it dead before we even noticed. Would that be consistent with his character?"

"Entirely. Mal likes to play tricks. He also enjoys showing his enemies that he had a chance to kill them but decided not to. It's a way of asserting control."

"Lets you know you're only alive because he wants you to be."

"Mal does have rules," Wesley explains. "Brutal and unsparing as he is, he lives by a code of honor. Which reminds me. Were any children killed?"

Giles thinks. "As a matter of fact, no."

"That's one of his rules. For whatever reason, Mal only kills adults. Not only won't he seek children out, he won't kill them even if they're at the place where he's feeding. But for his worthy' adversaries, the ones he takes most pleasure in killing, he constructs elaborate games. That's the only reason all of us are still alive. He's not an opportunist. He separates us. He attacks Angel and Connor in detail. But he spares them. As if that's not sufficiently challenging."

"He needs to make it interesting?"

"At this point in his very long life, it's how he kills his opponents that matters. Not if. Which means Mal would never shoot Buffy or Faith. If he was going after them, he would toy with them for several nights. Deposit bodies on Buffy's porch in order to compel her to fight. Then, having lured her out, he would construct elaborate ruses. Create set-piece victories to demoralize her."

"In other words, if Mal wanted to kill Buffy, he'd let her know well in advance?"

"Exactly."

"Could these killings be part of letting her know?"

"Were the bodies carried away from the scene and taken to her house?"

"No. Of course not. We didn't know until we read about it in the morning paper."

"I'm sorry to say it, but Mal doesn't appear to find Buffy to be interesting enough for him."

"Thank Heavens for small favors."

"Perhaps Mal wanted to avoid Angel and Connor last night. Make them waste time searching the city for him. The Hellmouth is a place where a demon can make a name for himself. Mal does love publicity. And he needs to be top dog. This was a way for him to show all the vampires and demons in Sunnydale who the top dog really is. Since he came here on Sunday, Mal has gone to great lengths to prove his superiority to every vampire and demon in the metropolitan region. Now that they're convinced, he could be seeking to expand his audience."

"Let me get this straight. You believe this was merely an extremely bloody stunt? A way for Mal to enhance his notoriety while satisfying his gigantic appetites."

"I'm saying he's not your problem."

"Not yet, anyway."


	33. Fantasies and Nightmares

Giles hides Mal's existence from Buffy. Welsey hides Mal's presence in Sunnydale from Angel. Mal talks with Nina about his human life. She talks with him about her dreams for their future. And Mal finally comes face-to-face with Angel and Connor, all of them prepared to fight to the bitter end.

Mayor Santos walks back into her office.

"What's the verdict?," she asks Giles, who, still thinking about Angel, is momentarily startled by her presence.

"It's not your problem. I meant, it is no longer your problem. The creatures, or, creatures, as it may be, struck in Los Angeles last night. After they struck here."

"These demons don't care for the Hellmouth? Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Apparently, they were only passing through. Thank you, Stella, for the opportunity to, ah, well . . . " Giles's thoughts trail off as he walks towards the door.

"Wait. Rupert. I know this is probably a bad time to ask, and, that, well, I may sound more than a little insensitive, but are we still on for this evening?" Her smile reminds him that there are things other than death and fighting for him in this town.

Giles thinks for a few seconds. He feels no urge to put the Slayers or the Potentials in the path of Nina. "Yes. Yes we are. And I'm looking forward to it."

Stella smiles again. "Okay. See you around 8:30, then."

By the time Giles returns home, Buffy has been awake for a while. Obviously, she is worried by the new developments. Giles wants to tell her something. Though not necessarily the truth. "Buffy, I was just on the phone with Wesley. Late last night, there were fifteen deaths in a Los Angeles suburb. The attacks were identical to what occurred here. The nature of the wounds proves both were perpetrated by a pack of migrating Orshkag demons. That type of demon tends to feed heavily before hibernating in a very dry environment. Wesley believes they are now in the Mojave Desert. Angel and Connor have picked up their scent, and later on today they plan to track them to their nest. Now that the demons are asleep, killing them shouldn't be too difficult."

"So this wasn't Nina? Or the First?"

"That appears to be the case."

"And Angel's going to handle it?"

"Angel and his friends."

"Okay. I guess that's, one less thing we have to worry about. I still can't help but feel like I dropped the ball on this one. These Osk-Kosk demons – "

"Orshkag."

"Had an all-you-can-eat people buffet right under my nose. This is my town. I'm supposed to stop things like that." Mal knew she'd feel this way.

"You can't blame yourself. It happened in the blink of an eye. And without any warning. Orshkags are very fast on the eve of hibernation. Even if you had received word of the attacks at the moment they began, they would have been gone by the time you arrived on the scene. You can't get them all, Buffy."

When dealing with Angel, Wesley was similarly evasive. Telling him that Mal had been in Sunnydale would have only distracted Angel. Besides, he had even more distressing news.

"Did you see the stuff I found at the theater?," Angel asks Wes.

"Yes, but - "

"Vassalage. Sub-vassalage. Territorial assignments. A vampire feudal system. I can't tell how extensive it is, or how many vampires have signed on - "

"Angel, there's something about Mal's history which I neglected to tell you last night. Or, rather, I chose not to tell you at that time. But, now that you're rested, I believe I need to."

"Get on with it. Can't be worse than what I already know. Unless you're going to tell me he used to be a vampire with a soul. Lessening the value of that already cheapened distinction."

"Mal has a special method for killing his opponents. Including his vampire adversaries. Simply put, he beats them to death."

"I don't get it. You're saying he'll try to beat me into unconsciousness before staking me?"

"No. I'm saying he won't stake you. Or decapitate you. Or set you on fire. He won't kill you in any of the conventional ways."

"Conventional ways? Those are the only ways."

"Not necessarily. It is possible that, at some point, a vampire's body could become so broken that it would no longer be able to hold itself together. The vampire would begin hemmorraging and, you understand why this is difficult for me to discuss with you."

"So that's what he meant."

"That's what who meant? Mal? What did he mean? And when? Angel, I'm not following."

"Mal said Slayers died before he was finished with them. They were too fragile, because they were human. He needed something that could take more punishment. And that's why he picked Connor and me." Angel pauses. "Finally, some good news."

"What? I don't understand."

"From what you said, he'll take his time. Which gives us more time, and more chances, to kill him."

"No. I'm wrong. Clearly, you don't understand. Long before death, you and Connor would become incapacitated and unable to fight back."

"But you could fight. You, and Gunn, and Fred, and Cordy. And even Lorne."

"I don't think we would be able to do much on our own."

"And that also gives us an insight into his tactics. He'll probably try to go for body blows. Maybe some throws. We know what to be prepared for."

"You're taking this news better than I had anticipated. Far better, as a mater of fact." This distresses Wesley. "Where is Connor, by the way? He seemed somewhat out of sorts last night."

"Connor's fine. He's sleeping. I'm going to go take a nap myself." Angel heads back upstairs. Wesley doesn't know what to make of his "What me, worry?" attitude. Wesley certainly is worried. That afternoon, he tries to discuss his concerns with the others.

"Are we even sure Mal's still around?," Fred asks. "Last night was strangely quiet. Maybe he had something to take care of in one of his dimensions, and he's gonna make us cool our heels for a week."

"Angel returns, our morale goes up," Gunn theorizes. "But the longer he waits, the more we lose our edge."

"And the more time we have to worry," Cordy adds.

"Mal is here," Wesley maintains.

"Then where was he last night?," Gunn asks.

"In the suburbs. You've read the same historical sources I have. You know he doesn't like to dawdle."

"Then why didn't he try to make us fight last night?," Gunn asks. "Angel and Connor were here. He wasn't. That's stalling in my book."

"We should prepare as if he will attack as soon as possible."

"Damn right," Gunn concurs with Wes. "You think I was arguing for something else? We got Angel. We're in business. We're ready for Mal."

"I don't share your cockiness," Wes responds.

"You think I'm cocky? We're twice as strong as we were before. And if I can hurt Mal, Angel and Connor can sure as hell dust him. Especially with all of us backing them up."

"Mal has beaten Angel and Connor individually," Wes reminds Gunn. "He has killed Angel. Twice. He has every advantage."

"Who are you workin' for?"

"In order to defeat Mal, we are going to have to do everything right. We're in the toughest fight of our lives."

"Mal had to separate us to psyche us out. He didn't wanna face us all right away. He had to weaken us first. Make us think we didn't stand a chance."

"Stop it!," Fred interjects. "Mal's tough. We know that. We don't need to have this argument."

"I think we do," Wesley responds. "Are we going to stake him? Cordelia's crossbow bolt bounced off his chest. What about beheading? Gunn garroted him hard enough to kill a regular vampire. The normal methods won't work."

"For us," Cordy begins. "But not for Angel. I'm sure he's strong enough to jab a stake into Mal's heart. Or swing a sword through his neck. I believe in Angel."

"As do I," Wesley insists.

"Maybe not as much as we do," Fred shoots back. The three of them are reviving old suspicions of Wesley's loyalty which go back to when he betrayed Angel. Wes recognizes this. He suppresses his anger and tries to respond.

"Blind faith won't help Angel. He needs more than our cheerleading." Wesley leaves the room.

"Was that last crack about me?," former cheerleader Cordelia asks the others. Wes decides to dial up Giles.

"I found the Orshkag demon," Dawn reports to Giles. "But it hibernates in arid, high altitude environments. The Mojave Desert is very low altitude. Why would it go there?"

"Usually," Giles nervously responds. "But not always. It doesn't always seek high altitude environments. The deciding factor is the aridity." He wasn't dumb enough to make up a demon. The Orshkag was the best thing he could think of to explain away last night's killings.

"And it tends to eat people whole," Dawn adds. "There was nothing in the paper about bodies being eaten."

"Out of respect for the victims' families."

"And they're not migratory. According to you, these things traveled more than 100 miles in less than a day. That's unheard of for a land animal. Even ones who do migrate."

"Dawn, please. You should be researching the First." The phone rings. "I should go get that." Giles is relieved to be done with that. "Wesley? Did something happen?"

"Not yet. I am calling to tell you that Angel and Connor may fight Mal tonight. If I do not call by sunrise tomorrow, assume we are dead, and prepare accordingly."

"Okay. i don't mean to criticize, but why so defeatist?" Now Wes was getting it from Giles.

"I'm not being defeatist. Just careful. We will be able to tell you if we win."

"But if you lose, you won't be around to tell the tale. Forgive me. I understand now."

"Mal may be tempted by the chance to kill two Slayers at once."

"And if I didn't warn them, Buffy and Faith would never see him coming."

"I expect to call you. But if I can't, I just wanted you to have fair warning."

"Well, er, thank you, Wesley. I know it must be difficult for you to plan for such an eventuality, but it was good of you to tell me this. Best of luck." Giles hangs up. Now he's been infected by Wesley's dread. And before this, he only had to fear the killings of the Potentials, the deaths of the Slayers, and the possible end of the world. All of which he and the people around him had some control over. But he knew Wesley had done the proper thing. Mal was the most prolific Slayer killer of all time. He no longer lived in this world, and therefore shouldn't care if it gets destroyed. What was to keep the First from using him to further its ends?

It's early evening. The final sliver of sun is descending below the horizon. Nina and Mal lie naked on a beach in Malibu, about ten miles north from where they entered the ocean nearly twenty hours earlier. The waves break and lap up against their bodies. Nina gazes at the orange, pink and dark blue sky.

"This must be the most romantic moment in the history of the world. Am I right?," Nina asks him. She's giddy with love.

"I'm sure you'll say the same thing tomorrow night."

"I hope you're right." Nina rolls back on top of Mal. "It's still light out. Do you need me to stay on top of you some more, make sure that sun doesn't do anything horrible to that magnificent body?"

"It's gone, baby. If it wasn't, we'd still be under water."

"I'm glad you suggested that," Nina says as she licks Mal's chest and stomach. "All of a sudden, I'm feeling jealous of the fish."

"You wanted to stay?"

"With you? Forever." They kiss for a little while.

"Remember what I said last night? About you being built to move?," Mal asks Nina. "That's what gave me the idea. It's harder to move while you mate on land."

"Some of those fish sure looked shocked."

"I don't think those sharks had ever seen people swimming faster than them."

"I think they were more shocked by what we did while we swam," Nina jokes, kissing Mal some more. She sits up, her knees straddling Mal.

"Get down, baby," Mal tells her. "The people living in those homes back there might sees us."

"So what? Let 'em try to stop us. This world is ours. We can do whatever we want, wherever we want." Mal pulls her close and rolls over so he's on top. Nina laughs and puts her left hand to his face. A look of tenderness comes over her. "What were your parents like? Do you remember?"

"I don't remember my mother."

"Why not?"

"She died two days after I was born. I was a killer right from the start."

"It wasn't your fault." Nina looks sad and concerned. She wants to comfort her man.

"You're right. But it was my nature. It's always been my nature."

"No Mal. It's your nature to make people happy. Ecstatic. Believe me, I know. What was your dad like?"

"He was nice. But busy. Always tending the herds. He found a new wife after my mother died. She never liked me. He did. But we both knew I had seek out my own fortune."

"He abandoned you?"

"No. But I left at fourteen. To work for a tool maker. Which was normal. First I made arrow heads. Sickles. Helmets. Then I learned how to use them. And I found a better job."

"Did you have brothers and sisters?"

"Two sisters. One brother."

"You guys get along?"

"My sisters and I got along very well. My brother was always suspicious, since I was older. He worried I would take his birthright."

"We didn't have to fear things like that," Nina recounts. There was always plenty of land when I was young. My older brother and my younger brother didn't have to worry. Neither did I."

"Were you married?"

"Please. How old do I look?"

"Old enough to be a mother in this world."

"You take that back!" Nina pushes Mal over, sits up, straddles Mal with her knees and slaps him.

"I wasn't insulting you," Mal insists. "When have I ever insulted you?" No man would, looking at Nina from Mal's current vantage point. In his defense, Nina does look to be in her mid to late twenties.

"Maybe in a few years I would have been betrothed. Like my older brother was."

"He's the one who didn't make it?"

"Poor Danul," Nina sighs despairingly, leaning down and resting her head on Mal's chest. He slowly strokes Nina's wet hair.

"You can't go back," Mal tells her. "No matter how bad you want to."

"I know. The worst part is being alone. But now I have you." Nina smiles and rubs noses with Mal, then lies there cheek-to-cheek with him. She sighs happily as they hold each other tight. Nina playfully licks his face and ear.

"But do I really have you?," Mal asks back. "You're not going to be here for long. And how will I know where to find you next? Or how long I'll have to wait for you to appear there?"

"I'll be free. Someday. They promised me that. If I do enough good work, they'll give me and Seth our lives back."

"You believe them?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't work, and they'd be in trouble."

"But they need you. Won't they always need you?"

"Not always. Not forever. They do the tough places first. And leave the ones they can do without me for after I'm gone. Plus this world's really important to them. It's their biggest prize. If I win here, it'll count for a lot. Who knows? Maybe this one'll put me over the top."

Mal kisses her neck, puts his right hand on her stomach and wraps his right leg round her left left as she lie there on their backs. Nina smiles and moans. She puts her left hand on his stomach and her right hand on the back of his head. "Then we can go anywhere we want," Mal promises. "Rule EVERY world. You have no idea what you could do if your power was unleashed. If you only had to serve yourself."

"And you." Nina kisses him and smiles. They roll on their sides and face each other. He runs his left hand down her right leg. "I hope Seth likes you. I'm sure he will. How couldn't he? After he sees how happy you make me feel. What's wrong, Mal? You look upset."

"I just don't want to get your hopes up. Once you're free, you'll be mortal."

"Yeah."

"Which means you'll die."

"A couple hundred years from now."

"And you'll age."

"Slowly. Very slowly. You won't stop loving me?"

"I would never leave you, Nina. You're so much more interesting than anyone else I could find. But you would be disappointed."

"With you? Mal, I don't see how that's possible."

"I can't grow old with you. I can't give you children."

"True. But neither can anyone else. Except for Seth, and that would just be gross. Hey! If that vampire can have a child with a human, couldn't you have one with a Titan? I have connections. You have connections. We could pull some strings. You rule worlds. I destroy them. We gotta be powerful enough to make a baby. Which do you want? A son or a daughter? Cause either way, they're gonna be the hottest, most powerful person in the universe." Mal can tell Nina's serious – about the child, and about them. He can see the stars in her eyes. She was so beautiful, and wonderful to be with. But he didn't want her to get the wrong idea about him.

"It's not in my nature to create life. Even if I wasn't a vampire. And I could never be a good father. I'm sorry. It's just not who I am."

"Do I look cut out to be a mommy? But I will. When I'm older. And more mature. You can grow too. Become more mature. Maybe not on the outside. But on the inside. I know you can."

"Nina, I'm a selfish man. That's why I've survived this long. I think only for myself. You have to understand that about me."

"That's not true. Look how happy you've made me."

"I don't believe in happiness, Nina. Happiness doesn't sustain a man for dozens of centuries. I believe in struggle."

"I know. You like winning. So do I. We're like the biggest winners around." She kisses his neck and runs her hands over his body. Titans are very tactile, and she so loves touching him.

"I'm never going to get to Heaven."

"So what? Isn't being with me Heaven?" She gets on top of Mal, licks him all the way up from his belly button to his lower lip, them bites his lip and kisses him. Mal realizes she could have a point. But he stays on message.

"That's not my point. I'm never going to Heaven, and I don't care. Because I don't want to go to Heaven. You know why? There is no struggle in Heaven. There is nothing to fight. No pain. No hardship. You're just happy, and content, forever. And I could never live like that. It's too boring. And least in Hell, I could fight."

"But you'd never win."

"Still. I could try. And fighting and never winning would be better than never getting the chance to fight." All this talk of the afterlife gives Nina an idea.

"You know something? One of my targets was in Heaven for a little while. You've been around here a long time. Know any humans who've had that happen to them?" She rests her head on his chest, smiles as he embraces her and waits for his answer.

"The Egyptians had a story about that. It was a tragedy. The person always wants to return to the afterlife. Living is too painful once they've experienced what's to come. The lesson of the story was that death is natural and good and shouldn't be meddled with."

"Did that really happen?"

"Could have. I don't know. You never do with fables. Because that's not the point."

"So you think she wants to go back?"

"Unless she's like me. Or, unless she's been back long enough to get over it. In the fable, Heaven is a drug. The greatest drug. The Opium of the Divine, I suppose. So the person brought back to life is an addict. They crave a fix. Something to take them out of reality, even if only for a few minutes. However, I suppose that since it's a drug, if the person is strong enough, they could kick it. But maybe the Egyptians didn't know what they were talking about. I do know one thing. I'm famished."

"You mean, underwater, that wasn't your mouth growling?," Nina jokes. "What about the people you ate?"

"The six I found on the two boats I capsized? Just a snack."

"I asked you if you wanted to go up onto that island last night. You said no" She means Catalina Island, more than twenty miles off the coast.

"I wasn't hungry then. I also need a shower. Get off all this saltwater."

"They got showers in those houses up there? They got people, too, don't they?"

"They should."

"All right! Two for one."

"I can't get in."

"I can."

"You really are the best." Even Candace, for all her love, wouldn't help him with his killing.

"Thanks. I know," Nina answers with a giggle. She runs up the beach to a Malibu mansion. Mal follows her. He can tell that she's not terribly self-conscious of her nudity. The people she surprises sure will be. Nina leaps up onto the patio and bursts through the sliding glass doors. Mal hears screams from inside. A woman flies out the window, crashes through the patio's railing and falls to the sand. Mal grabs her and drains her. He hears a man in the living room trying to reason with the bizarre naked woman who's just broken into his house. She throws him out another window. Mal catches and drains him. About ten seconds later, a baby flies out a second story window. Mal rushes to get under him and catches the baby. He returns to his human face and looks at the boy, who is understandably crying.

"Hi little guy. Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you," Mal whisper. He walks away from the child's dead parents and carries him into the house, then walks up to his bedroom. He places the baby in a crib, tucks him in, and tries to sing a very, very old lullaby to the baby in a dead language he can't possibly understand. Nina walks up and puts her arm around Mal.

"What did I say about you being a good father?"

"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?"

"You're right. Back to living for the moment. Come on. I already turned on the water." She takes Mal's hand and runs with him into the shower.

Around this time, Angel assembles everyone together.

"Are we going to find him, or let him find us?," Lorne asks.

"When he's ready, he'll give us a sign."

"And then what?," Connor asks.

"We fight him. The two of us. Together."

"Two?," Gunn asks. "What about the rest of us?"

"You'll help. But you won't fight." This surprises all of them.

"What!?," Gunn exclaims.

"I don't understand," Wesley adds. They can't understand why Angel's sounding like Connor.

"If Mal gets his hands on any of you, you're dead, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. The only way I can save you is by keeping you at arm's length."

"You don't think we can help you?," Fred asks.

"Wrong. I need all of you. Connor and I have to stay light. You'll be carrying the weapons. Giving us what we need when we need it."

"I ain't nobody's caddie," Gunn declares, expressing the disappointment of everyone.

"Think about it," Angel responds. "He'll take his time with us. But not with the rest of you."

"This is our fight, too," Cordy tells Angel.

"No it's not! You want to help kill Mal, you do things my way. Otherwise get the hell out."

"You expect us to stand idly by while you get beat to death?," Wes pointedly demands to know.

"I can't just stand by watch you two die," Cordy adds. "Angel, none of us can."

"You didn't let me finish. Mal will be going back and forth. If one of us is standing, and the other one's down, he'll go for the one who's standing. This will give the other one a chance to get up. If either of us can't up after a ten count, or if we're getting beaten while we're down, then you can attack. You won't fight until we need you to. Hopefully, you won't have to fight at all. But I am not forcing you to watch us die. We'll keep you safe. You keep us safe. It's that simple. Now let's get our weapons ready."

After having some wet and wild freshwater fun in the shower, Mal dries himself off and finds some clothes to put on. "Promise to see me when you finish your job?," Nina asks.

"Absolutely. I'll meet you at my theater. It's got a wonderful balcony." Nina smiles eagerly. "A lot stronger than the one at that house."

"Until then." Nina puts her arms around Mal and gives him a passionate kiss.

"You're leaving dressed like that?," he asks his naked girlfriend. He's not sure if fighting naked is a good strategy. (Though it could rattle Spike, and possibly Willow.)

"I can teleport to where there's more clothes."

"I forgot. Are you going to do something tonight?"

"I wasn't. But, now that you mention it, I could have some fun. They like to hide in their house. But I think I know how to lure them out."

"That's my girl."

"You're right. I am your girl." Nina pauses for a few seconds as she shows Mal a soft, tender smile, then kisses him again. She wraps her legs around his waist, squeezes tight, leans back so her body's parallel to the ground, holds her arms out, lets Mal get a good look at her bare body, then teleports away. Mal smiles smiles and gives a big sigh. Nina's nearly tempting enough to keep him away from his big fight. Nearly, but not quite. He walks into the hallway and is about to go down the stairs, but hears the baby crying. He remembers the child, runs into the bedroom, pulls him out of his crib, and leaves with the boy in his arms. Mal rushes to the neighbor's house and knocks loudly on the door. When they open it, they find a baby on their doorstep. Mal has already returned to the other house. He takes their car keys, starts up their H2 Humvee, and backs out of the garage without opening the garage door. The couple next door picks up the crying baby, sees the car burst out and drives away, and shakes their heads. For the moment, they're not sure where this child comes from. But Mal is confident they're not going to let him die. Meanwhile, he has things to do. Like eat. He can't kill a champion on an empty stomach.

Mal parks outside of a military base north of Los Angeles and leaps over the barbed-wire fences. He loves killing soldiers. He loves killing them because he respects them, having been one himself. A little while later, he sees a sargent leading twenty soldiers. They march in two rows of ten, parroting the cadences he barks out. Bringing up the end of each file are two lance corporals. The soldier in front of the one on the left realizes he's not hearing anyone behind him. A few seconds later, so does the man to his right. Neither of them looks back to see the corpses. Before they have a chance to, Mal stands fifteen feet in front of the sargent. Mal is wearing a captain's jacket, courtesy of a kill he just made. He stands straight up, his head held high, his arms behind his back, looking quite official. However, the sargent is confused. He's never seen this officer before in his life. For the moment, he stops.

"Are your men prepared to die?," Mal asks. "And are you prepared to die for them?" While he asks this, the two men in back see what has happened to their corporals. They are too scared and bewildered to say anything. After all, what on earth could have killed them so quickly and quietly?

The sargent is confused. He recognizes the name on the jacket. And the man standing before him is definitely not the man that jacket belongs to. But before he can say anything, Mal goes bumpy. At that point, the sargent is speechless. Mal quickly lunges forward and drives his fangs through the man's forehead and into his brain, killing him instantly. The sargent falls dead. The eighteen remaining men run straight for the barracks. Which happens to be the smart thing to do. It's closer than the command post, and Mal can get into the command post but not the barracks. Still, they're not going to make it. Mal leaps over top of them, landing between the soldiers and their home. He begins taking them out one-by-one as they flee, desperately calling for help. Mal will be finished draining them before help arrives. Which is fortunate – for those who try to help.

After outrunning several military vehicles and leaping over the multiple exterior fences. (Because of Mal's speed and the darkness, they don't get a good look at what they are chasing.) He returns to the vehicle and drives away. First, he heads back to the theater, opens a closet and gets out some of his own clothes. He likes to dress for success. But he's still hungry. His body requires enormous amounts of energy to function properly. Before heading out, Lou and Vic come to see him. They've been waiting all day. Mal forgot about meeting with them. And if either of them saw Nina, they would understand why. As it is, they hide their annoyance and dutifully report to their Great Leader. The big move went off without a hitch. They're the only game for vampires in town. No surprise there. Lou then reports on their attempts to extort night clubs with the help of the gangs, who of course now work for them. Two clubs were terrified enough to pledge protection money (no need to collect anything yet). They were probably terrified by the recent spate of killings, and all the dead cops would have deterred them from trying to contact the police about the gangs. (The gangs weren't going to attack them. But Mal assumed some of the club owners might not believe in vampires, but all of them would believe in organized crime.) Yet one of the three clubs had the audacity to refuse their offer. They didn't fear the gangs. Lou suspected they already had an understanding with those groups. So Lou and Vic had gone bumpy. That didn't do the trick either. The club owner knew about vampires. And he knew vampires had always been around. So why should he start paying them off now?

Mal recognized that this man had a valid point. And he was eager to address it. After telling Lou and Vic to go make the rounds through the neighborhoods and ensure that all the captains were following orders, Mal drove off. While Parliament's "Give Up the Funk/Tear the Roof off the Sucka" blares out of his speakers, Mal plows the Humvee through the front door of the club. He hears a few screams. That's nothing compared to what's about to happen. Mal stands on the roof of the truck. A few people can see his face in the darkness. Many others can see his glowing red eyes.

"This is what happens when you refuse me!," Mal bellows. Then he roars. It's a terrifying roar, like a lion's, but louder and with deeper harmonics. It easily drowns out the loud music. Once he's done roaring, the music is drowned out by the screams. Mal leaps down and makes quick work of the numerous bouncers and security guards. Then he starts punching people out and throwing them into walls as they try to escape. Mal works his way to the dance floor, bashing heads and snapping necks. The music has stopped. Mal notices the dj is leaving his booth. Mal grabs a screaming young woman and drags her towards the dj.

"Make my funk the P-funk!," Mal yells at the young man. He just stands there, shaking. "I said, make my funk the P-funk!!!." Then he bites into the woman's neck and drains her as she vainly struggles. By the time she ceases to struggle, the dj has rushed back into his booth, found the song, and put it on. "Thank you!," Mal yells out as he bites into a man and kicks back the people trying to flee the VIP Room. Not knowing what else to do, the dj keeps the music coming. He doesn't know it, but he's spinning for his life.

Obviously, in a club filled with hundreds of people, Mal can't kill them all even if he wants to. And he doesn't. His appetite has its limits. Pretty soon, one of the fleeing patrons calls Angel Investigations. Lorne answers.

"Thank you. We'll be right there. Go straight home, as fast as you can." Lorne hangs up and looks at the gang. "Someone's having a massacre at the White Lotus. Three guesses?"

"Hottest club in town," Cordy notes. "Full of the rich and famous. Perfect target for Mal."

"It's time," Angel says as he stands up and looks at Connor. "Let's go."

The White Lotus is just off Hollywood Boulevard, only a few miles west and north of the Hyperion, and Angel arrives before the police. He parks around the corner, and Connor and him get out of his car. Wesley parks his bike nearby. Lorne gets out of his car, and Cordy, Fred and Gunn get out of hers. The weapons are all in Lorne's and Cordy's vehicles. Everyone coalesces around Angel.

"I'll go check it out. Connor, you stay here with them," Angel commands. "He shows, you scream."

"You can count on it," Lorne assures Angel. Like the others, he has a lot more butterflies in his stomach than usual. Connor and Angel are the only calm ones. Their bodies have had time to heal, Connor believes in his own invincibility, and Angel has an abiding faith in what Connor and him can accomplish when they work together. It's a faith that's never before been put to the test.

Inside, Angel finds a slaughter. Mal drained twenty, and killed about thirty more he didn't have the stomach to feed off of. Piled by the front door are the security guards. More people lies along the walls and atop the bar. Others are on top tables. and couches. The dance floor is littered with corpses. Funkadelic's "Flashlight" plays loudly. In the VIP Room are a host of people who appear to have died in agony. Mal simply crushed several of them into the walls at a time. Throughout the club, the smell of blood and guts is overwhelming, especially to Angel. But he can hear someone breathing. The dj's still in the booth. Still spinning. Too scared to come down. Angel realizes he must have watched the whole horrible thing. Angel hears the cops arrive in force. Six cars with twelve officers, plus an armoured van carrying six members of the SWAT team. After everything that's happened this week, they're not taking any chances. They waited until they could respond in force, which is why Angel beat them there. He picks up the dj and carries him out the rear exit, past more bodies. Angel quickly rushes around front and drops him off near an ambulance. They tell he's in shock, and wrap him in a blanket. He returns to his friends. The music still pumps out of the building. Angel and the others here a familiar voice singing the song's refrain.

"Everybody's got a little life, under the sun, under the sun, under the sun!"

Mal stands atop a three story building across the street and two blocks down. He certainly is dressed to be scene. A white suit, white shoes, white shirt and black tie. Around his neck he wears a golden chain, from which hangs a golden cross. Angel wears a long-sleeved black v-neck shirt with black pants. Connor wears jeans, a brown long-sleeved t-shirt, and an olive-green t-shirt on top of that. They walk over to Mal.

"Why don't you come quit playing game, come down here and fight like a man?," Angel challenges. He's ready to make Mal pay.

NEXT: The fight. And Angel and Connor will not be walking away from this one.


	34. Everything but the Kitchen Sink

Mal obligingly leaps down to the street. He points to his spotless white suit. "All that blood, and not a spot on me." Connor wants to charge in, but Angel, who stands to Connor's right, holds him back. He knows that if they make the first move, Mal will just block it and counter-punch. "Smart man," Mal says, pointing at Angel. "Maybe you won't be the first to die."

"You're right," Angel responds. "You will." Mal rushes in, then jumps back a few inches out of range. Connor takes the bait, launching a right hook kick. Mal ducks under the kick and sends his right foot for Connor's left knee. He cries out in pain and falls to the ground, temporarily hobbled. Angel steps forward and sends a right hook towards the crouching Mal's face. He pivots back out of the way and pops Angel in the nose with a right roundhouse kick, then puts him on his back with a straight left kick to the chin. Mal leaps forty feet forward so that he is within fifteen feet of all of Angel's friends. They clutch various weapons. The moment Mal lands, he lets out a loud snarl. The sheer volume, to say nothing of the ferocity of tone, causes the five of them to flinch. Before they know it, Mal has disappeared. When they see him again, he's leaning against Angel's car. The car is upright, resting on its front headlights. Mal leans his left shoulder against the vehicle, arms folded and calmy smiling. Angel runs over. Connor limps. Angel's shaking his head. Mal is nodding his. His pushes the bottom of the car with his left hand, and it comes tumbling down, crushing Angel's windshield. Nina told Mal how she trashed Spike's ride, and he believed in borrowing good ideas. Maybe it would further enrage Angel, and cause him to do something stupid.

Cordy and Fred point their crossbows and fire, aiming for the eyes. Cordy for the left, Fred for the right, just as they had planned. Mal is caught slightly off-guard by their unexpected choice in targets, but he manages to raise both hands and catch the arrows when they are between two and three inches from his eyeballs. (Cordy and Fred had spent the past few days doing practice shooting in the basement.) He tosses both arrows back, hitting Cordy in the left thigh and Fred in her right heel. They were holding the crossbows up at shoulder level, and he worried the weapons could block a body shot, which would be just the morale boost they needed. So he went for a less damaging but more hittable shot. He is disappointed that he missed Fred's Achilles' Tendon by an inch. Both of them flinch and go down in pain. Angel and Connor look at Cordy. Wes and Gunn look at Fred. This is just the diversion Mal needs. A few yards down the side street from Angel's overturned car is Wesley's motorcycle. Mal lifts it up by the front wheel, spins around several times and flings it in Angel's direction. Tossing a Harley sixty feet through the air is hardly an exact science. The bike veers towards Connor, who stands to Angel's left. Angel notices the projectile a split-second before Connor. He steps to his left and pushes Connor to the ground. This saves the son, but places the father directly in the path of the extremely heavy projectile. It pins him to the ground. Mal shrugs at his good fortune. He hit his intended target after all. Connor gets up and helps lift the bike off Angel's chest. Then he helps Angel to his feet. Mal was bringing them closer together. Which is just as Mal intended. The more they love each other, the more concerned they will be about each other's injuries, and the more mentally distracted they would be. Were Angel saw strength, Mal saw potential weakness.

After Connor helps Angel up, and Lorne helps Cordy up, and Gunn and Wes help Fred up, they notice that Mal is gone. He whistles loudly from a block to the north. "Arriba! Arriba!," he yells out. Mal wants to get the fight away from the police officers. Angel tells his friends to put the weapons back in their cars and drive up. The weapons are heavy, and he fears Mal will simply run his friends ragged. Connor and Angel slowly approach, trying not to get too far ahead from their weapons cache, and buying all the time they can to recover from their injuries. Connor's knee feels inflamed. And Angel didn't like getting his rib cage pounded by a motorcycle. Especially a Harley. He wonders why Wes couldn't go for a lighter Japanese model. Meanwhile, Mal, takes the time to survey the next cross street and see what opportunities it has to offer.

"That's a pretty heavy supply train you're lugging," Mal notes, pointing to the cars. "So what happens if I destroy THOSE machines?" He walks toward Angel and undoes the three buttons on his jacket. Angel throws a left jab. Mal blocks it, but as he does so, Angel swings his right arm for the left side of Mal's face. And in Angel's right arm is a large, heavy wrench, which smashes into Mal's left cheek. As the wrench thuds against Mal's face, Connor swings a sledgehammer. It comes down onto the top of Mal's head. The sequence of blows startles, hurts and enrages the vampire. He hits Connor with a right jab, then lunges at him and knocks Connor back with a left hook. Two quick right jabs and another left hook put Connor down. Angel hits Mal in the lower back with the wrench. Mal swings his left fist behind him and nails Angel in the nose. He spins around and follows this up with a right hook kick and a left roundhouse kick. Angel can't defend against this whirlwind attack. Mal turns to face Connor, but gets hit with the sledgehammer in the left side of his jaw. He leaps at Connor and tries a flying right kick. Connor anticipates the attack and moves out of the way. He swings the sledgehammer for Mal's mouth. This time, he grabs the hammer with his left hand and the wooden shaft with his right. He rips the hammer away from the shaft. Connor resourcefully tries to stake Mal with the broken piece of wood. Mal grabs it with his right hand. He starts swinging the wood for Connor's face. Connor predictably dodges the blows. Mal clocks Connor in the right temple with the hammer, causing him to fall down, dizzy.

Mal easily spins away from Angel's attacks from behind. Angel turns and charges Mal, standing between Mal and his son. Mal plays fencer and stabs the broken wooden shaft for Angel's heart, forcing him to back up. Realizing he's underarmed, Angel holds up his left hand. Gunn tosses Angel his baseball bat. Mal makes a move for Connor as he's getting up. Angel rushes over and tries to pound Mal with the bat. Mal spins around, avoids the bat and sweeps Angel's legs out with a right roundhouse kick. Angel realizes he has to be more careful about falling for Mal's feints. Mal stands over Angel, holding the stick in his left hand as if about to stake Angel. Connor comes at Mal from his right and tackles the vampire. Angel realizes his son also needs to remember not to fall for Mal's stratagems. He forgot what daddy told him about the mean vampire wanting to beat daddy to death, instead of staking him. Connor tackles Mal. While they're down, Connor lands a right punch to Mal's nose. Mal smacks Connor twice upside the head with the heavy hammer. Connor gets the worst of it.

Mal stands up while Connor struggles with yet more concussion-related vertigo. Angel pounds Mal in the right temple with his bat. Mal flings his stick onto the roof of the building to the his left. He puts his fists in front of his face. Angel hits Mal's left rib cage with the wrench. Mal steps forward and lands a right jab. Mind you, he still held the hammer in his right hand, which made the punch to Angel's mouth vastly more damaging that it would have normally been. Angel grabs his mouth in pain. Mal hurls the hammer onto the roof in a gesture of fair play. Connor lands two right crosses to the left side of his face. Mal kicks Connor in the stomach with his left foot, knocking Connor back six feet. Mal looks to his right and rushes Angel's friends. Wesley points his pistol. Connor's right behind Mal, so Wes can't fire. Mal stops on a dime, picks him right foot up behind him, catches Connor in the chin and lifts him two feet in the air. Mal then puts his right foot down and nails Connor's chest with a left reverse kick before his feet return to the ground. Connor flies ten feet back. Mal spins to his right, leaping fifteen feet. When he lands, Angel is between Mal and Angel's friends. He wants to frustrate their attempts to get involved. At least until things get desperate and they are moved to try something foolish.

Angel lands a right uppercut. Mal connects with two right jabs as he retreats. Angel ducks his left hook and lands a right hook. Mal connects with two left hooks to Angel's ribs and a stinging right jab to his sternum. Mal then grabs Angel and tosses his back into the wall right behind Mal. Connor comes up. Mal finds himself sandwiched. He slides to his left, leaps onto the wall twenty five feet in front of him, and scales it. Mal comes down on the sidewalk behind Angel's friends and to their right. Angel ditches the wrench. He and Connor rush over to protect the cars. Angel notices that, among other things, Mal has pulled down the traffic lights at either end of the block. He did this while waiting for Angel and friends to catch up to him after the motorcycle stunt. Mal takes off his white coat, spins it around theatrically in his right hand, then tosses it on top of a parking meter. He holds out his hands, beckoning his opponents onward. Angel leads the way, with Connor ten feet behind Angel and five feet to his right. He knows Connor's gotten the worst of it so far, and that Connor can take less punishment than he can. Plus, there's that fatherly urge to protect his boy. Mal wades in. Angel blocks two of his right jabs. He blocks one of Angel's left jabs. Angel steps forward and lands a right hook. Then a right kick. Mal staggers back to near his jacket. His rips the parking meter out of the sidewalk, flings his jacket off to the side and clobbers the side of Angel's left knee with it.

He was expecting a head shot, and could have blocked it. But the leg shot sweeps his legs and knocks Angel down. Connor rushes in and sends a leaping right hook kick for Mal's head. He brings the meter up and swings it over his head, catching Connor in the stomach. Connor's body jackknifes until his hands nearly touch his toes. Mal then brings the giant, coin-filled mace onto Angel's right foot as he's standing up. This sends him back down. Mal swings three times for Angel's chest. He blocks two of the blows, which only serves to hurt his elbows and forearms. The third blow catches the top of Angel's sternum. He's beginning to taste blood in his throat. Mal's done this before, and it's clear he knows how to take a vampire apart piece-by-piece. Connor comes at Mal from behind. This only causes Angel more heartache. The boy blocks his face, so Mal smashes his heavy club into Connor's left hip. Connor winces and wobbles a bit. Mal clobbers him in the chest, putting Connor down. Then he nonchalantly tosses the meter through a window to his right as he moves rightward, away from the charging Angel.

Angel speeds up and catches Mal. He pounds him twice in the back with his right fist, then lands left uppercuts to Mal's stomach and chin. He thrusts Mal against a street light and wails away. Mal blocks a left hook, but Angel lands a two right hooks. Mal laughs. He can tell that he's getting under Angel's skin. The laughter only further infuriates Angel, who throws three quick left jabs, landing two. Mal grabs Angel's shirt and head-butts him in the nose. He throws Angel behind him, face-first into the windshield of a parked car. He grabs Angel again and throws him the other way, clanging his head into a parking meter. "I love these things!," Mal exclaims. Connor comes at him from the left. He blocks Connor's right kick, grabbing his foot, but Connor does a back flip to get free. Angel is still struggling to his feet. Mal's repeated blows to his brain have left Angel dizzy. Mal sees the teetering Angel to his right, the rejuvenated Connor in front of him, and decides to go for the boy.

Mal charges, and Connor, for once, backtracks. He's waiting for Angel to bum-rush Mal from behind. "I heard the craziest thing last night," Mal tells Connor as he advances. "Did you know there are two Slayers just up the road? Two! Crazy. You and your daddy could have had yourselves a nice father-son gang-bang." Mal laughs as he backs Connor up onto the sidewalk. He hears Angel stalking him from behind. "Seems the blonde one's real special. A creature of destiny, like your old man." By now, Angel's not quite sure if Mal's really saying this, or if he's hearing things. Either way, it angers him and takes away the dizziness. "But I bet she'd like you better, boy. You seem like the wild type, and I suspect that's the way she likes it." Mal pivots left and backs away just in time to avoid Angel's attack. Connor and Angel are now right in front of him, Angel to Connor's right, on the outside of the sidewalk, away from the buildings. If he really is imagining all this Buffy talk to pump himself up, it's working. The two of them launch a concerted attack, kicking and punching away. But Mal just calmy backs up, keeping just out of range. He moves in rhythm to Prince's "Controversy," which he hums. After about forty feet of evading, he leaps ten feet up onto a lamp post, grabs it with his left hand, spins around it like Gene Kelly in "Singin' in the Rain" (he's seen it), and flies over Angel's and Connor's heads. They turn and attack. This time Mal holds his ground. He blocks most of their punches, but they still land quite a few.

"Not bad," Mal tells them before kicking Connor in the chest with his right foot. Then he blocks Angel's right uppercut and throws Angel to his left. He crashes through the window of a sporting goods store. "Better," Mal adds. (The downed traffic lights and their accompanying wires block the street, and hence keep traffic away.) Connor charges. Mal hits him in the gut with a left hook kick. Connor responds with a right kick to Mal's stomach. Mal knocks Connor down with a right roundhouse kick. Then Mal leaps into the store after Angel, who lies in wait. He pounds Mal's noggin with a bowling ball. Smarting from the blow, Mal ducks down, grabs Angel by the knees and throws him in the air. Angel does a forward flip and lands on his feet. Mal hits him with a left reverse kick, knocking Angel into a display case. Angel hurls a rack of clothing at Mal, blocking his view. Angel rushes up and pushes Mal back fifteen feet into the camping equipment aisle. He tumbles to the ground. Covered in tents, and concealed by the darkness, Mal manages to slip out of sight. Angel listens closely. But Mal's movements are soon drowned out by the sound of golf balls smashing the remaining windows. Angel prudently backs up towards Connor. He doesn't know it is golf balls that are doing the damage. That might have tipped him off to what's next.

Mal comes out of nowhere and kicks Angel in the shins, knocking him on his face. "I wonder what this is?," Mal asks as he winds up the driver and swings it into the right side of Angel's skull, fracturing and slightly denting it. "I think it's some sort of mace. Except the shaft is too thin for a weapon." Mal rips the head off the club as Connor enters after hearing his dad groan in agony. Mal sticks the broken end of the shaft through Connor's stomach before he even knows what's happening. He runs the boy through before pulling it out. "And too easily broken," he finishes. Mal strides back outside as he licks Connor's blood off the shaft so Angel's friends can see. He then tosses the metal stick into the middle of the road, unbuttons the top button of his shirt and loosens his tie a little. Gunn and Wes wonder whether to help out. But before they can intervene, Angel emerges.

"So Mal. What else you got?," Angel asks. Mal confidently attacks with his back to the friends. He and Angel trade right hooks. Angel lands another right hook. Mal responds with a left hook. He knows that trading blows only helps him, since he has the harder knuckles and the tougher skull. Angel lands a right uppercut, but takes two right jabs and another left hook. Finally, Mal downs him with a right uppercut to the chin. Mal glances to his left. He wonders when Connor will be coming out. Angel looks up at Mal and grins. Connor came out long ago. He wasn't one to let a serious stab wound keep him down. While Angel took Mal's punishment, Connor snuck back to Gunn, who handed him a cement block. He smashes the block down onto Mal's head. The vampire falls to his knees. Connor kicks him in the face. Angel stands and punches Mal in the mouth as he tries to get back up. Blood running down from his lips and nose, Mal bounds up and pushes Angel twenty feet back. Connor hits his face with a right cross. Mal lands a left punch to Connor's stomach wound, smiling as he watches Connor wince. He puts Connor on his back with a right hook kick. When Angel comes at Mal from his right, he turns and ducks Angel's right hook. He blocks Angel's left jab with his right hand and punches Angel's left shoulder with his left fist, dislocating it. Mal then knocks Angel down with a right hook.

"You son's blood has a lot of energy. Like a Slayer's. Without the bitter aftertaste." He looks at the bloody boy as Connor stands up, and licks his lips. "In fact, it is extremely sweet. Do you eat a lot of sugar?" Connor looks down at Angel, and can tell he wants his son to retreat. When he does this, Mal looks to his right, making sure Angel doesn't get behind him. Angel stands up and runs away. He grunts as he smashes his left shoulder into a wall, getting it back in the socket. Mal walks after them. He wants to see what happens when Angel and Connor join up with their friends. Maybe the normals will get in the way. As he walks, Mal takes off his black tie. Angel sees Wesley brandishing his pistol.

"What the hell are you doing? That won't kill him."

"But a shot to the head could cause brain damage. Which would certainly make him easier to kill." Angel decides it's worth a try. Though the idea does cause him some slight worry. Everyone who ever shot at him aimed for the body. What if more people started shooting for the head? No vampire wants his brains blown out.

Mal has wrapped the necktie around his right fist. Angel comes from the front. Connor from the right. He eludes Angel's left jab and pounds him with three quick right jabs before sweeping out Angel's legs with his left foot. Sweeps don't cause much damage, but they get one fighter down and allow Mal to focus on the other one. Connor has already landed a left hook kick to Mal's right ear. Mal turns to face Connor, only to get clocked with a straight right kick. Mal responds with a left kick to Connor's stomach. He's starting to feel the internal injuries. Connor can't help but grab his stomach with his left hand. He throws a weak right hook that Mal avoids. As he dodges the punch, Mal unfurls his tie, wraps it around Connor's neck, squeezes it real tight, and ties a knot. Connor falls to his knees, desperately trying to rip it off. His face turns bright red. Then purple. The veins on his neck bulge.

While this was happening, Cordy handed Angel a poleaxe, which he took in his right hand. Mal dodges the downward swing, but Angel nails him with a right kick. He swings the ax back-and-forth in a figure-eight. Mal backs up and easily avoids the blade. Then Angel lands a left hook, quickly switches the ax to his left hand and connects with a right uppercut. He takes the ax in both hand and swings some more, forcing Mal to remain on the defensive. After lulling Mal into a pattern of dodging side-to-side, Angel stabs the spear on the end for his neck. Mal arches his back until it is parallel to the ground, barely avoiding the point. Angel then kicks Mal in the groin with his right foot. Normally, Angel refrains from cheap shots. But with Mal, he'll make an exception. While Mal groans in pain, Angel takes a quick swing for his knees. Mal does a back flip to avoid the ax. Angel can hear Connor wheezing and he glances to his left. This was the sort of distraction Mal had been hoping for all along. He leaps at Angel and knocks him fifteen feet back with a straight right kick to the chin. While Mal lands the kick, Cordy finds Connor's dagger and tosses it to him. He cuts the tie loose, and starts to breath again. With Connor is still on his knees, Mal kicks him in the mouth with his left foot. Connor falls on his back, his mouth full of blood.

While Mal laughs, Angel pounds him with a left cross. He follows this up with a right uppercut. Angel knows he has to pick his shots. Mal's facial bones are so hard that hitting them more than a few times makes your knuckles bleed. Mal responds with a right jab to Angel's left eye. It's starting to swell shut. Angel responds with a right kick to Mal's rib cage. Then a leaping left roundhouse kick to his face that takes Mal completely by surprise. He responds with a right kick to Angel's stomach. Angel lands a right cross to Mal's mouth. He responds with a left hook to Angel's rib cage. Angel can feel the bones crack. Mal pushes Angel ten feet back, but he stays on his feet. Mal steps forward, prepared to knock Angel down before Connor mounts another attack. Wesley is twenty feet in front of Mal. He steps to the right and leans his body rightward to ensure he has a clean shot. Then Wesley fires his .357 Smith & Wesson. The bullet strikes Mal in the center of his forehead. Then it bounces off, ricochets down and passes clean through Angel's stomach. Wesley can't believe it. He feels horribly guilty. Angel doubles over in pain. Some of that internal bleeding will now become external bleeding. Mal turns right and kicks the charging Connor in his left knee, which Mal's already compromised. He decks the lame boy with a left hook. Mal puts his right hand to his forehead and feels blood where Wesley shot him.

"Do you know how much those things hurt?," Mal asks Wesley with a gleeful laugh before kicking Angel in the stomach with his right foot. He boxes Angel's ears, and Angel falls to the ground. "Who's next?," Mal asks Angel's friends. He leaps forward and to his right, landing on the roof of Cordy's car. The impact shatters all the remaining windows and dents the roof. Mal goes bumpy and growls at the five of them as they stare up at him. It's his way of showing that the rules are different with the normals. They wisely decide to stay put and allow Mal to preen until Angel and Connor can back them up. When the two of them do stand up, Mal does a back flip and lands in the side street heading north.

In his arrogance, Mal allows Angel and Connor to employ surprise. The cars block him from seeing them re-arm. By now, he's not afraid of any of their weapons. When they approach, Angel, as usual, is in the lead. He has his hands behind his back. Mal mostly notices the oozing wound on his stomach. As well as his battered face. In his right hand, Angel holds one of the traffic lights Mal pulled down. He swings his right arm. Mal prepares to block the punch. But the traffic signal overwhelms him. Angel pounds his arms twice. Then he nails the top of Mal's head. After that, he smashes the yellow light into Mal's nose. Then, he brings the bottom of the signal onto the top of Mal's head. His knees start to buckle. Now Connor goes to work. In his right hand is a brick. He pounds it into Mal's left eye. Then into the left side of his head. Then up into his chin. His fourth swing is for Mal's nose. Mal ducks down, and the brick hits his forehead. It breaks apart. Mal gives the surprised Connor a left hook to the face. Connor stays on his feet and lands a left hook of his own. He's starting to notice that his knuckles are swollen and bleeding. Mal lands quick left and right jabs to his sternum, right on top of Connor's heart. Angel clobbers the right side of Mal's face with the traffic signal. Mal circles round, faces Angel and kicks the signal out of his hands. But now, Mal's back is to Angel's friends. And they intend to take advantage of this.

Wesley steps forward. He believes it could work if he is closer to his target. Wesley gets his gun to within ten feet of the back of Mal's head. He fires. It bounces off the back of Mal's skull and travels downward through Wesley's right foot. "Bloody hell!!," Wesley yells as he hops away. He can't remember the last time he used that phrase. Then again, he's never shot himself in the foot. This shot stings even more than the first, but Mal pretends to ignore it. He knocks Angel down with a right hook kick, and puts Connor on his back with a left roundhouse kick. Mal proceeds to kick Connor three times in the chest with his right foot. Angel said they could help if Mal was hitting them while they were down. Fred decides to take a shot. She swings a metal chain above her head and throws it at Mal's right leg. It wraps around his right calf. Fred pulls, hoping this will take him down. Instead, Mal gives her a lesson in his version of Newton's Third Law of Motion. For her action, Mal provides a superior and opposite reaction. When he feels his leg being tugged back, he swings it forward. This pulls Fred forward and to the ground. At least he's anchored in one place for as long as Fred can hang on.

Angel lands a right hook kick, and Connor connects with a straight left kick. Mal can only kick with his left foot, and his opponents stay out of his punching range. Gunn tosses a crowbar and a sword over Mal's head. Angel grabs the crowbar and Connor grabs the sword. They look at each other and instinctively switch. Angel swings for Mal's neck. He ducks. Angel swings downward. Mal lurches forward and out of the way, dragging Fred along with him. Gunn runs up and takes hold of the chain, allowing Fred and her skinned elbows, skinned knees and bloody face to retreat. Plus, she already had that arrow hit her heel. When Mal steps forward, he reaches out his left foot and kicks Angel in the chest. Connor pounds his face twice with the crowbar. Then he smacks Mal's left knee, to see how he likes it. Mal takes it a lot better than Connor. But Connor then spins and lands a right roundhouse kick to Mal's face. The next time Angel charges and swings for his neck, Mal jumps straight up over Angel's head. The chain didn't prevent him from doing that. But it did keep him from having a good landing. Gunn, his feet firmly planted far apart as if he's in a tug-of-war, yanks the chain while Mal is in midair. This pulls his right leg back and causes him to land in a split. On the way down, he was able to stick his left leg forward and kick Angel in the face, knocking him back two steps. Connor swings for the downed enemy. But Mal takes the crowbar in his right hand and pounds Connor's Adam's apple, giving him even more trouble breathing. When Angel steps forward and swings, this time to amputate Mal's outstretched left foot, he's ready. Mal puts his flexibility to use, bending down so his stomach touches his thigh. He reaches out the crowbar, catches Angel's blade in the slit, and twists, yanking the sword out of Angel's hands.

Finally, Mal stands up. He decides it's time to take care of this infernal chain. Mal turns around and runs straight at Gunn. With the slack gone, he has no control over Mal. Charles runs back, trying the regain control and buy time for Angel to catch Mal. He knocks Gunn out with a left hook. Then Mal turns, leaps in the air and hammers Angel's face with the chains around his right foot. He rushes towards Connor, only to see a biker zooming up behind him. It's Wesley. He can barely stand, but Wes can still ride. He feels awful about hurting Angel, and wants to make up for it. Besides, this is why he brought the bike. It was time to see how the archer handled some heavy cavalry. Connor helps by staying in front of Mal and keeping him busy. He blocks Mal's right jab and right hook kick. Mal blocks Connor's straight right kick. Then Wesley zooms by to Connor's left. He carries a short-handled heavy-bladed ax in his right hand. If it doesn't decapitate Mal, it should stick in him. And, failing that, it would certainly knock him down and leave a nasty mark. Wesley swings down for Mal's face and neck. He ducks low, spins around and lands a right roundhouse kick to the bike's engine. Naturally, Mal beats the Harley hands down. It shoots leftward into the wall. Wesley flies forward, hits his head and rolls. Luckily, he had his helmet on. The others were so preoccupied with helping Angel that they hadn't even noticed Wesley was gone. Wes rips off his helmet, lies down and lets the concussion take effect. He's never had a bike accident before, and this was definitely the wrong time for his first. After helping Gunn get up, Fred rushes over and makes sure Wesley's still alive and conscious. Mal tosses Angel into one wall and Connor into the other. Things are indeed beginning to look bleak. However, Mal is also hurt. Nowhere near as bad as Connor and Angel, but much more than he's used to.

NEXT: The dramatic conclusion


	35. Knocked His Block Off

Mal flees a block north to unwrap this annoying chain from around his leg. Then he notices something promising just ahead of him. From 100 yards away, Angel can barely see Mal. That worries him. If he waits for the gang to follow him in their vehicles, Mal will have time to circle round and come at his friends from behind. He has to pin the wily, lightning-fast vampire down. Connor is slower to follow. But he soon quickens his pace. Connor is nothing if not resilient. Even when he should know better. Especially when he should know better. One good thing about his preference for dark-colored shirts is that they hide the blood. And there was a lot of blood.

Angel forces Mal to make the first move. Mal throws a straight left kick. Angel moves back out of the way. Mal steps forward and tries a left hook. Angel ducks down. In his right hand is an 18 inch-long lead pipe, short but heavy, and therefore perfect for the task. Angel hits Mal's left knee. Mal kicks Angel in the body with his right foot. Angel circles right, trying to exploit Mal's hurt left leg. He hits Mal in the ribs with the pipe. Mal lands a right cross, but Angel responds by nailing Mal in the face with his weapon. Angel kicks the stunned Mal in the stomach, then in the chin. Mal flies back thirty feet before tumbling to the ground. Angel thinks that's a bit much. Connor doesn't recognize the ruse, and he rushes in. Angel has no choice but to follow and defend Connor. Mal leaps at Angel and decks him with a flying right kick. The move puts Mal behind Connor. So he leaps over Connor's head. When he lands, Connor turns and attacks. He sends Mal staggering back with a right roundhouse kick. Connor presses his advantage, closing with Mal and throwing a right hook. Mal grabs Connor's arm and tosses Connor over the railing behind Mal. Running beneath the street is Highway 101. Connor falls thirty feet and lands on his back in the median. Blood starts flowing out of his right ear.

Angel lands a right uppercut. Mal responds with a right jab, right hook, left cross and right roundhouse kick. The flurry of blows knocks Angel down. Mal leaps down to continue working on Connor. He sees the small pool of blood that collected to the right of Connor's head. Connor was just getting to his feet when Mal arrived. He puts Connor back down with a right hook kick, then grabs Connor's neck with his right hand and picks the boy up. He further tears Connor's shirt around the stomach wound with his left hand and sticks his left index finger into the wound so he can do some painful probing. Connor groans. He's too weak to cry out. Mal bodyslams Connor, who coughs up more blood. Mal licks his left index finger. "Full of energy. No wonder you're so hard to kill." Mal brings the heel of his left foot down onto Connor's left knee, then onto his left shin. Connor grunts in pain as Mal uses the boy's own toughness and resilience against him. Mal looks up to see Angel flying down. He looks so heroic. So noble. Like an actual angel descending from the sky. Just the sort of thing to inspire the old warrior. He leaps forward, meets Angel in mid-air, drives his left palm into Angel's chest, and sends him twenty feet back. Angel slams into one of the concrete columns which hold up the road they were just on. One of the problems Angel faces: the better his opponent fights, the more satisfaction Mal derives from killing him.

Mal walks back over to Connor, who has finally stood up. So bloody, so covered with wounds, yet still fighting his heart out. Mal doesn't know whether to thrash the young man or throw him a parade. "A Slayer would be dead by now," Mal tells Connor. He throws right and left crosses, which Mal blocks before kicking Connor in the stomach with his right foot and putting him on the ground with a left hook. "I was right about you." Connor turns his head and spits out more blood. He can't quite hear Mal over the roar of the cars zooming past them on either side. Angel hits Mal from behind and pushes him to the right, trying to knock Mal into the traffic. But Mal's too heavy. He puts his right hand against the guard rail and hits Angel with left elbow. Mal hops onto the guardrail, jumps in the air, spins around and pummels Angel's face with a flying left windmill kick. Mal grabs Angel while he's down and thrusts his head into one guard rail, then the other. After that, Mal picks Angel up and drops his back onto Mal's knee. Angel rolls to the ground.

While Mal's savoring this success, Connor comes from behind and drives his dagger into the back of the vampire's neck. The point breaks off when it hits one of Mal's vertebrae, and it falls back to the ground. But the rest of the knife goes through his flesh and comes out the front of Mal's neck. Connor has trouble pulling it out. Mal turns around and takes Connor's throat with his left hand. "I love this kid!!," Mal exclaims. Connor can see that the knife went clean through. He thought that would have worked. After professing his "love," Mal tosses Connor to his left, into the westbound traffic. It's a six lane road, and Connor lands in the fourth lane from the median. Angel's friends look down helplessly. Lorne drops a short sword behind Angel. He picks it up as Mal advances towards him. He's watching his son with the greatest concern, but knows that coming to his aid would be difficult, even if Mal wasn't there to prevent it from happening. While Angel's distracted by his son's desperate plight, Mal drives him back into the concrete column. Mal's regimen of body-crushing blows is beginning to take its toll. Mal lands two right uppercuts to Angel's stomach, lifting his feet off the ground. Angel ducks a left hook, and Mal's fist pounds away a small chunk of concrete. Angel swings the sword in his right hand for Mal's left shoulder, hoping to do some damage. Mal backs up with his characteristic quickness that is not only super-human, but super-vampiric. He relaxes his neck muscles and pulls out Connor's dagger, which is about half the size of Angel's sword. Mal prepares for the mis-matched sword fight.

"Is one of us compensating?," Mal asks Angel. He stabs for Mal's neck. Mal backs just out of the way and slashes Angel's right forearm. He blocks Angel's next move before slashing deep into Angel's right shoulder. Certain that Mal will protect his neck, and desperate for some small success, Angel stabs for Mal's stomach. The sword goes clear through his body. Mal calmy stands there and jabs Connor's dagger through Angel's neck, entering on the left side and exiting on the right. Mal quickly yanks it out with his right hand and sends Angel staggering back with three left hooks, advancing after each punch before throwing the next one. Then Mal leaps up, pushes against Angel's chest with his right foot and drives him back into the column. He finishes off with a left hook-right hook-left hook-right hook combination to Angel's face, putting him down for the count. Mal steps back. Angel sits there and watches him from fifteen feet away. Mal tightens and contorts his stomach muscles, causing the sword to slide out the front of his body. Once the points exits, he takes it in his left hand. Angel worries about what Mal's going to do now that he has both weapons. Mal hurls the dagger back and to his right. It enters the windshield of a car heading west and pierces the driver's left eyeball. The driverless car going sixty miles per hour causes all sorts of chaos. Mal throws the sword back and to his left. It crashes through a front side windshield of an eastbound car and travels clear through the driver's head. Another pile-up ensues. Even though it's good Mal didn't use the weapons on him, Angel can't help but feel bad for the innocent people Mal just killed. Mal feels wonderful. He knew he was good, but this just confirmed how good. He does more damage as a momentary afterthought than most vampires could intentionally cause in a whole night.

Upon hitting the asphalt, Connor rolls a few times and looks at the headlights onrushing vehicle. With his hands and feet, he pushes off of the ground and leaps above the car and into the lane to his left. He's now two lanes from the shoulder. Gunn and Lorne can't help but think of Frogger, but they know this isn't the time for jokey pop culture references. Connor lands on the roof of a car zooming by. He quickly hops up and to his left, having been on the moving vehicle for only an instant. Its momentum sends him hurtling backwards as he sails to the left. Connor slams into the sheer rock face at the edge of the shoulder and falls down onto the shoulder. He's a physical wreck, but at least he's safe. Slowly, Connor climbs up the rocks. Angel's friends drive over to try to help him. When he gets to the top, Connor looks down at Mal and Angel. It seems to him that Mal could finish Angel off right there, and he tries to figure out how to help. Mal turns to his right and looks up at Connor. Flying over all the traffic would require an eighty foot leap, which is a lot even more Mal, especially now that he's wounded. Granted, the traffic was bottlenecked and grinding to a halt on account of the deadly accident Mal himself had caused. But even when he made it across, he'd still have to climb or jump up twenty feet of rock, with Connor waiting at the top to kick him back down. Instead, Mal leaps back up onto the northbound road he was on before. This move puts him behind Angel's friends, making them vulnerable. And Connor was in no condition to defend them.

Angel stands, looks up and realizes this. Can't leap up to the road in his state. He could cross the highway and climb up, but that would take too long. Plus, Mal could kick him back down. Fortunately, Connor's kept his head, damaged as it may now be. He orders Angel's friends to head north. They don't want to abandon Angel, but he insists, screaming for them to go before coughing up some blood. And they're not about to say no to such a brave and horribly wounded young man. When Mal walks over to his intended targets, he finds them gone. Connor has retreated a block north as well. Angel's friends are in their cars a block north of Connor. Mal realizes the boy is trying to beat him at his own game. Mal lured Connor into a trap with the same tactic of feigned retreating. Even better, this move forces Mal to make a choice. He can jump back down and continue beating on Angel. But Angel's friends could return any second in their vehicles. Then they could drop very heavy things on Mal. And make it tough for him to come back up to street level. A tear wells up in Mal's right eye and falls down his cheek. "Such a wonderful son. It's a shame he has to die. But not for me." Mal smiles and runs at Connor. Whether or not this was his intention, Connor's move has given Angel time to recover and return to the fight. Angel jumps and grabs onto the steel I-beam thirteen feet up. He pulls himself up, then climbs the rest of the way back onto the street. From his vantage point on the highway median, Angel couldn't see Connor's maneuvers. Now that he's back up, everyone's gone, and he doesn't know where they went. But he can follow their scents. Angel dreads what could happen if they have to face Mal without him.

Directly north of this section of 101 is a series of rugged hills leading up to the Hollywood Reservoir a miles west of Griffith Park. Connor hides on the reverse slope of a hill. He has ordered the others to take the road east and circle round once Mal approaches. When he gets within thirty feet, Lorne and Cordy do as Connor commanded. Wes lies lamed on Lorne's back seat. Gunn stands on the back bumper of Cordy's car, holding the back door with his left hand and a bat is his right, daring Mal to attack. Fred sits on the floor behind the back seat, nervously watching Charles. He's upset that he hasn't gotten his chance to attack Mal. Cordy drives away slow, both so Gunn won't fall and because Connor insisted on it. Mal can tell that he is being lured. Gunn and the others are making themselves too enticing as targets. So he lets them go. But it wasn't a trap so much as a diversion. As Mal watched them drive away, Connor scampered further north, leaving Mal all alone. Connor knew that he was the one Mal wanted. Not the easy kills. For the first time in the fight, Mal can't see any of his opponents. That worries him. He's no longer in control. Mal has no choice but to track Connor's scent. And the trail of blood he's leaving.

As Mal stalks Connor, Angel stalks Mal. He begins to realize that his son is carrying out some sort of conscious, intentional plan. He's proud, but worried. Angel notices the trail of blood Connor leaves, just like a wounded animal. Connor's plan does have the downside of tiring him out even further. He has to move mostly uphill across a quarter-mile of rocky ground, and he has to do it as fast as possible in order to keep ahead of Mal. Connor didn't know his destination would be so far away. Or maybe it felt farther because he was badly injured. He had been healthy when he hiked it last summer. Still, he makes it. Mal travels the distance with more ease and looks down at a road thirty feet below. Across the road is a thin strip of park land with an even higher ridge above it. "Not bad," Mal says as he stands there. Connor jumps out from behind a nearby tree and swings a large rock for Mal's skull. He blocks the rock with his right hand, grabs Connor with his left and tosses him up in the air and backwards. Connor crashes through the tree branches before slamming down to the ground. But right then, Angel comes up from behind and brains Mal with an even bigger rock. He tumbles down the hill. "Better than you thought," he says, answering Mal's faint praise of Connor. Angel rushes over and helps Connor up. He doesn't know what Angel just did, and he's upset his plan failed. He doesn't want Angel's comfort, and he sure as hell doesn't want a pep talk. He pushes Angel away in frustration.

Down below, Mal sits on the road and shakes his head at his blunder. He had completely forgotten about Angel. Then he hears the cars approaching. Lorne and Cordy see him on the ground, and they floor it (Gunn inside Cordy's vehicle by now). Mal quickly stands up and jumps leftward into the parkland. Lots of trees. An nice place to try and kill a vampire. The boy appears to have thought this one out. The boulders on the ground prevent Cordy and Lorne from running Mal down. Angel worries he could attack them. He tries to run, but he's badly hurt and the slope is very steep, so he ends up falling and rolling down to the road. Connor walks slower and more carefully. He can feel the blood running out of both ears and down his neck. His left leg is hard to stand on – because it's broken, which he doesn't yet know. He's extremely woozy from the loss of blood, most of which has saturated his two t-shirts and begun to trickle down and soak his jeans. Before Angel can arrive on the scene, Mal goes to work. The five friends stand together. They happen to be in front of Cordelia's car. So Mal rushes to Lorne's car and overturns it. The car rolls over twice, crushing the hood but landing right side up on its tires. Gunn hits Mal twice in the back with a four foot-long, four inch-wide steel I-beam left behind by Xander's construction crew. Mal goes down to his knees. Gunn whacks him in the back of the neck. He swings downward for Mal's head. The vampire rolls to his left, avoiding the blow. He stands up and turns around to find Angel five feet away and closing fast. Mal throws Angel over his shoulder. Angel quickly gets up. Mal circles away from Gunn. Angel moves in and throws a left jab. Mal backs away. Angel tries a right cross. Mal grabs Angel and throws him up over his head. He flips in mid-air and crashes down twenty five feet away. Mal turns to watch the painful impact.

Gunn hits Mal yet again in the lower back. This is really beginning to hurt. Gunn swings for his head. Mal reaches his right arm up and grabs the beam. As he turns around, he rips it from Gunn's hands. Before Charles can react, Mal swings the steel upwards into Gunn's chin. He flies twenty feet back and lands on a large boulder, splayed out like Prometheus. Mal bends the two ends of the beam down and inward until they touch. Then he tosses it away. Connor slams a rock into Mal's left ear. Mal is starting to get dizzy and experience a small portion of what he's putting Connor and Angel through. Mal hates empathy. In his right hand, Connor holds a branch that's about six feet long. After bashing Mal, Connor stabs for his heart, wielding the branch like a spear. Mal grabs it with both hands, rips it away from Connor and uses it to sweep out Connor's legs and knock him down.

Mal looks at down Connor and goes bumpy. "I would make it quick and painless, but you deserve better," Mal tells Connor. He tries a right hook kick and a left roundhouse kick. Mal backs up as he blocks both kicks. Connor tries a left jab, but Mal blocks that as well. He swings the rock in his right hand for Mal's fangs. Mal stops it with his left hand and hits Connor in the nose with a right jab. He yanks the rock away and holds it in his left palm while he walks towards Connor. "How are you going to kill me with this?," Mal asks. He slams the rock into the asphalt, grabs Connor's jaw with his right hand, leans in and sinks his right fang into Connor's carotid artery. More of a deep stab wound than a bite. Mal lets go and watches Connor fall. He grabs his neck as the blood spurts out. Mal carefully licks his right fang before going back to his human face. He sees Angel approaching on his left.

But he does not see Lorne approaching on his right. But even if he did, he wouldn't care. Lorne holds a taser in his left hand. After tiptoeing up as stealthily as he could manage, Lorne reaches out and jabs the taser into the right side of Mal's neck. He holds it there for two seconds before Mal turns around and hits Lorne's chin with a left uppercut. Lorne flies thirty feet back before crashing through some branches and tumbling to the ground. Cordy limps over to him. "Look Auntie Em. I can fly," the very punch-drunk Lorne jokes to her.

"What was that?," Mal asks about the electric shock as he faces Angel. No one had ever stuck him with one of those before. He puts his hands up and realizes that it has made his hair slightly frizzy. "So many weapons. And I'm still standing. What do you have left?"

"Me," Angel responds, trying to imitate Buffy and emulate her winning ways. He goes bumpy and gets ready to bring the pain. Mal doesn't take him too seriously. He keeps looking over his shoulder, waiting for Connor to attack again.

"That's quite a nose bleed," Mal tells Angel, who steps forward and throws a right jab. Mal grabs Angel's right arm and throws him over his shoulder to the ground. Mal turns to face Angel. Now all his enemies should be in front of him. When Angel stands up, he realizes what Mal was talking about. The blood pours out of his nostrils and down to the ground, forming puddles. It won't stop. He's hemorrhaging. This must be the beginning of what Wesley was talking about. His body was losing the ability to hold itself together. "Like a faucet," Mal tells Angel with a smile. He charges, but Mal kicks him in the chest with his right foot. Angel flies back and falls down.

Connor discovers that the blood is spurting out of his neck about twice every second. He's never before had an artery cut open before. Connor puts his right hand to his neck, trying to stanch the bleeding as he walks towards Mal. Angel gets up and sees his son to his right. He can tell the boy's in deep trouble. Then again, so is he. On the plus side, Mal's troubled by all the blood on his shirt. The worst part is, most if it's his. He rips off the shirt and tosses it to the ground. Connor has never seen Mal with his shirt off. He's never seen anyone with such a comically well-defined musculature (and Connor had met plenty of cartoon characters in his brief time on Earth). At this point, it couldn't help but intimidate him by adding to Mal's aura of invincibility. Angel just tried to remind himself that Mal was also hurting.

"He's a wonderful son," Mal tells Angel. "Clever. Resourceful. Explosive. Willing to sacrifice himself to save others. And he has that rare animal cunning. It's a real shame he never met that special Slayer. She's a very gifted girl. Silly name, but so talented. I think your boy would have been perfect for her. Heaven knows he would do her a lot more good than that silly-looking, yellow-haired vampire." Angel is both outraged and confused. Mal knows too many details. Almost like he's met them. Connor's too badly injured to lead the attack. He waits for Angel to make the first move. Connor doesn't worry about Mal having met Buffy so much as wonder why Mal would draw such a ridiculous conclusion. Angel wonders if Mal genuinely believes that Spike is inferior to him, as well as inferior to Connor. Even now, he can appreciate a good slagging of Spike. Meanwhile, Mal waits for their attack as they wait for his. The three of them are stuck in stalemate. But Mal is in no hurry. He knows that time is on his side.

They had all taken their shot at going toe-to-toe with Mal. All except Cordy. And it was now or never. She gets in her SUV and starts the engine. She's going to find out if it really can go off-road. Cordy drives down the road and into the grass. She speeds up as the tires and the suspension system negotiate the rocks. The extra ground clearance does come in handy when running down an enemy. Angel and Connor step to the side as they hear her coming up behind them. Both of them worry about her safety. Cordy bears down on Mal. She's going too fast for him to back up out of the way. So he leaps up, lands on her hood, runs up to the roof and leaps off the back. Cordy slams on her breaks just before hitting the steep hill that would have stopped her in her tracks anyway. She puts the truck in reverse and goes backwards. Mal had forgotten that cars could go in reverse. He never bothered to park properly. He always saw cars zooming down the road, never pulling in and out of garages and parking spaces. So this was a surprise. Mal turns and runs. When Cordy gets back to the road, she spins around and puts it in drive. She chases him across the narrow meadow, then swings north of Mal to block him from running up the ridge. She turns around again, spins her wheels and drives back towards Angel and Connor. Mal could have ducked behind a tree or found another way to avoid Cordy, but he was determined to beat her at this little game.

Cordy forces Mal to flee towards Angel and Connor. He doesn't want to do this. So Mal stands in the road. When Cordy gets really close, he hops to his left. As she drives by, he rips her front passenger-side door clean off. Now he's damaged her car, and acquired a weapon and a shield to use against Angel and Connor. Mal attacks, swinging the door in his right hand so the thin bottom end faces his enemies. Angel and Connor back up. He hits Connor's already repeatedly damaged left knee, then jams the bottom corner of the door into Angel's stomach. While he's trying to force it further into Angel's body, Mal gets run over by Cordy. He had forgotten about her, not realizing that Cordelia of all people would not let him trash her property and get away with it. He flies thirty feet back and slams into the side of the hill. Mal still holds onto the door, which left Angel's stomach the moment she hit him. Her bumper went straight into his knees, and the blow really hurt. Cordy slams on the brakes and gets out, approaching Mal with Angel to her left and Connor to her right. They don't think Cordy joining the attack is such a good idea.

Mal stands up and hurls the door like a frisbee, aiming straight for Cordy's face. To Angel's and Connor's great relief, she ducks in time. Mal leaps down from the hill. He simultaneously nails Connor with his left fist and Angel with his right. Cordy pulls out a hammer and swings its claw down for Mal's head. With his arms outstretched, he can't block it. Mal ducks and leans forward. The claw imbeds itself in his back. Mal grabs Cordy and tosses her twenty five feet into the air. She slams face-first into the roof of her vehicle. Mal reaches his right hand behind him and pulls the claw out of his back. "She was my favorite," Mal tells Connor and Angel as he backs away from them. The hammer is worrisome. Though, if it's any consolation, Cordy left a good-size wound that is causing Mal quite a bit of pain. From fifteen feet away, Mal throws the hammer at Connor's head. He reaches up and catches the handle between both his hands. Not exactly his usual panache, but it got the job done. Mal steps forward and kicks Angel in the chin with his right leg. He flies back and crashes into the ground. Connor swings for Mal's left knee. Mal lifts his left leg up. Connor rolls along the ground and sweeps out Mal's right leg, taking him down. Connor swings for Mal's left shin. He rolls away, stands and continues backing up. Connor pursues, putting more distance between himself and Angel.

"It's been a long while since I have had a kill this good," Mal tells Connor.

"Me too," Connor responds, at this point not even convincing himself.

Mal blocks Connor's right kick for the body. Then he rips the hammer away when Connor goes for his head. Mal lands three quick right jabs as he holds the hammer in his left hand. "Who needs this?," Mal asks as he tosses the hammer away. Connor attacks. Mal throws him face-first into a small boulder. His forehead bangs against the rock. "When I have this," Mal concludes, looking at his fist. He throws a left jab downward. Connor moves his head to the right. Mal's fist slams into the rock. Mal quickly grabs Connor's very bloody shirt with his left hand and hits him in the head six times with his right fist. Connor lies there, nearly unconscious. Mal grabs Connor's feet, picks him up and slams Connor's back into the rock. Angel comes to the aid of his nearly expired son. He grabs Mal's head from behind and tries to snap his neck. Mal reaches back, grabs Angel's head and tosses him forward and onto his back. Then he picks Angel up, turns around and uses all his strength to toss him forty feet into the distance. Angel lands on the road and rolls over several times before stopping. Fred and Wes hobble over to Angel, but he tells them to go help Connor.

After getting rid of Angel, Mal picks Connor up and looks into his vacant eyes. "Elders first," he tells the boy before clocking him with three very powerful left jabs and throwing him to the ground. Connor's slipping into unconsciousness as Mal walks away. As he makes his way to Angel, Mal sees Fred and Wes hobbling towards Connor. Mal goes bumpy and rushes towards them. They back away. Wesley trips over a rock, and Fred trips over a root. Mal returns to his human face, smiles and goes over to finish Angel off. He is barely standing as Mal approaches. Angel is very light-headed. He hasn't felt this way since when Darla was siring him.

"I told you I would not make you watch your son die. Now I will keep that promise."

"You mean this is when I kill you?," Angel meekly jokes as he coughs up more blood. Mal shuffles his feet and dances around, though more slowly and less gracefully than usual. Angel, for his part, can hardly move. Mal lands a right roundhouse kick. He follows this with a left kick that sends Angel airborne. Before Angel's feet hit the ground, Mal leaps up and pounds him with another right kick.

"Get up!," Mal taunts. "Not like your feet are broken." He reaches down, grabs Angel's right foot and twists it 180 degrees, snapping Angel's ankle. He winces. "Not yet," Mal adds. Angel gets up before Mal has the chance to completely hobble him. Mal lands a left and a right punch, then another left and another right punch to Angel's body. "Why are you crying?," Mal asks. Actually, blood has begun to trickle out of Angel's eye sockets, a sure sign that the end was in sight. Angel lands a left jab, but his right cross falls short and Angel staggers forward. He's having trouble seeing. Mal connects with a right jab and a left hook to Angel's face. He follows this up with a right uppercut, right hook and left cross. Angel goes down again. Mal is nearly done beating both his opponents to a literal bloody pulp. Mal walks around Angel. "Come on. One more time. You can do it. You have to. There's no one left. Your friends. Your son. They gave all they could. Now it's your turn." Mal is in a lot of pain. Especially for him. He won't be as energetic as usual with Nina tonight, but by tomorrow evening he should be all better. And from then on, he'd be there to serve her: personally and professionally. Giving Nina tips on how best to defeat the powerful yellow-haired Slayer with the funny name. Maybe getting Spike alone and seeing how long he could stand up to Mal's punishment. And Nina had promised he could kill all of Buffy's family, friends and hangers-on who weren't Slayers, Potentials or Watchers. That way, Nina wouldn't have to bother with them.

All of this goes through Mal's head as Angel gets to his knees, puts his left foot down, puts his right foot down and slowly rises to his feet. "I can feel it," Mal tells him. "This is it. Your last shot." Angel is having a very hard time maintaining his balance. Everything around him is spinning. He has nothing in the way of peripheral vision. And then there's all the pain. And the numbness. Like every part of his body is either feeling nothing or screaming out in agony. He can no longer see Connor in the distance behind Mal. Angel's friends are either semi-conscious or in no state to provide any meaningful assistance. All they can do is watch the slow, painful execution of the man they love and serve.

As Angel stood up, Connor became more conscious, and used his hands to pull himself along the ground over to the rock Mal thrashed him against. He leans against the rock, sitting partway up. It doesn't look to him like things are going so well for Angel. Connor figures he'll have to save himself. But how? He can't even stand up. Connor puts his left hand down, and it hits several small pieces of rock. These are the shards that broke off when Mal's left fist hit the rock on the only recent occasion when Connor dodged a punch. He looks down at them and feels around. One of them seems kind of sharp around the edges. He picks it up and looks at the piece of stone. It's flat. Round. About three inches in diameter. Connor looks up. Sixty feet in front of him is Mal's back. Connor smiles as the blood trickles out both corners of his mouth.

"How can a rock kill you?," Connor asks, repeating the question Mal put to him a few minutes ago. "Here's how." Connor whips his left arm forward, flicks his wrist, and tosses the stone. He's pretty sure it's his last hope. The stone disk spins through the air and hits its mark, slicing through the back half of Mal's neck, right as he's about to finish Angel off. Mal looks confused.

"That's new," Mal says to himself. Immediately, his flesh begins repairing itself. The skin on the right half of the cut has healed. And the right half of the spinal tissue has reattached itself. Angel sees the puzzled, distracted look in Mal's face and throws a right hook with all the strength left in his body. Mal also throws a right hook. Angel's fist hits Mal's left cheek. About five hundredths of a second later, Mal's fist hits Angel's left cheek. Angel goes down for for good. He knows he won't be getting up this time. A few seconds after falling on his back, Angel opens his eyes and looks up. Mal is still standing right in front of him. But he appears to be missing his head.


	36. She's On Fire

Fred and Wes are struggling to their feet when Mal's head falls to the ground, landing right-side up. The sheer shock of this turn of events stops them cold for a few seconds. Twenty feet behind them, Gunn, still lying on that rock, could swear he sees a headless guy. He cannot see Angel, so he can't be sure about his fate. Lorne lies thirty feet to Gunn's left. Unlike the three of them, Lorne saw Angel land the improbable punch. He rubs his eyes and looks again, just to make sure it really happened. Lying on top of her car on the other side of the road, Cordy watches Mal's body teeter. It slowly rocks back and forth five times before a light breeze tips it over for good. Once Mal's back hits the ground, his skin and flesh turns to dust, falls off his bones and is blown up into the air by a light, swirling northerly breeze. The dust floats above the ridge and towards the reservoir.

"Did I do that?," Angel asks himself as he lies on the ground. Wes and Fred limp towards him. Gunn and Lorne stagger. Cordelia does a bit of both. Being closest, Wes and Fred get to Angel first, followed by Cordy. Because his neck is too sore to allow his head to turn, Angel can't see them until they are standing right over him, looking down with the greatest concern.

"Angel. Angel? Can you hear us?," Cordy asks. Angel's ears are ringing too loudly for his to understand her, and he never had a reason to learn how to lip read. But he can see them, though his vision is rather cloudy.

"Angel, how are you?," Fred asks.

"Can you move anything?," Cordy queries.

"You won," Wesley reports, unsure if Angel is cognizant of that fact. "You killed Mal."

"Connor. Where's Connor? Where's my son?," Angel asks in a voice barely above a whisper. Cordy and Fred see Connor lying on the rock. They can't tell if he's alive from this distance, so they rush over to check. Cordy because she's always cared about him. Fred because she thinks he's shown enough bravery to make her forgive him for three months of lying to Gunn and herself about dunking Angel underwater. Gunn and Wes put their hands under Angel's shoulders and try to help him up slowly.

"Ow!! No. Moving isn't a very good idea," he tells them after they lift his shoulder blades a foot off the ground. They place him back down.

Connor saw Mal's head fall off, and he saw him turn to dust, so he's more informed about matters than Angel. He's still leaning against the rock when Cordy and Fred rush up. Connor manages a small half-smile.

"That was cool, huh?"

"Connor. It's me, Cordelia. Can you hear me? Can you move anything?"

"I'm okay," Connor stubbornly insists. He leans forward and gets on his hands and knees. But before he can stand up, Connor begins vomiting more blood. Fred's a little sickened and a lot worried.

"What do we do?," she asks Cordy. "What do you do for this sort of thing?" She didn't know. Cordy had never seen this sort of thing either.

Meanwhile, Lorne senses that Angel is having trouble hearing. He leans down to speak into Angel's left ear. "Connor's okay. Okay, he's not quite okay. But he made it. Like you. Except, he's still breathing. Which, I suppose, was implied when I said he made it. Little guy's quite the trooper."

"Let me see him," Angel whispers in Lorne's left ear. "I need to see him."

"Which creates a slight conflict. See, to see Connor, you have to sit up. Which would require moving. He's right in front of you. A little distance away, but straight in front. So, in order to see him - "

Angel groans as he lifts his head up because his neck is so sore. "Oh. There he is," Angel says with a smile. "Throwing up blood." Angel's smile quickly disappears. "I have to help him. Connor. Connor, I'm coming. Just hang in there." Angel grimaces as Gunn and Wes help him to his feet. His back is killing him. Angel realizes he only has one good leg to stand on. And standing up made him even more lightheaded, so he has very little balance. Gunn and Wes struggle to hold him up. But Angel realizes he felt much better on the ground. "Okay. Not gonna happen. Down please." They begin to let him down. "Hold it. Stop! What are all those bones?"

"That's Mal," Gunn answers. "Oh, that's what's left of him after he made the mistake of messing with you."

"Oh." Angel responds. He falls back down. "Wait. His bones. His bones survived. You have to crush them. You have to break them. Just to be sure he never rises." Wesley wasn't familiar with the Master's epilogue, and Angel didn't have enough energy to explain. The three of them think it's the brain damage talking. But they can't see the harm in trying. Besides, they'd enjoy getting out a little frustration. They hobble around until they find some stones that should do the job. Then they kneel down and prepare to wail away.

"Anyone got the theme from 2001' lying around?," Lorne jokes. They slowly raise their arms and bring the stones crashing down. But it doesn't work quite as well as it did for Arthur C. Clarke's monkey men. The leg bones just lie there. The ribs roll around, but don't break. They try a few more swings. Nothing. They can't break any of the bones, only scatter them. They look at each other.

"I think we're all a little fatigued because of the fight," Wes suggests.

"Yeah. We're worn out," Gunn concurs.

"Maybe later," Lorne adds.

"Or, with somethin' bigger and better to swing," Gunn proposes. He stands up and limps over to Cordy's car to find any leftover weapons.

After wretching, Connor insists on continuing to crawl over to Mal's skeleton. But his swollen left knee is too sore. After twenty feet, his eyes tearing up in pain, Connor rolls over and lies down again.

"Can we get some help?," Cordy pleads. Wes and Lorne come over and the four of them carry Connor to Angel, lying him down just to Angel's left. He smiles when he sees his son, and reaches his left hand out to touch Connor's right hand.

"We did it," he tells his son. "Told you we would."

"What do you mean we?," Connor asks back.

"I knocked his head off."

"No. I cut it off." Connor looks at the ground in front of him, then points. "With that rock. The small flat one."

"Really?," Angel responds to the news. "How'd you do that?"

"I threw it." He looks up at Cordy. "Get me that rock." She puts it in his left hand, and Connor clutches his souvenir.

"I guess we really did kill it together," Angel tells Connor.

"No we didn't," Connor replies. "He was dead when you hit him."

"He hit me after I hit him. How could he hit me if he was dead?"

"God, you champions can be so petty sometimes," Cordy interjects. "You did it together. You needed each other. Can we leave it at that?"

"I already have," Angel responds.

"You're right, Cordy," Connor concedes. "I needed him to distract Mal."

"Well I think I did a little more than distract him," Angel objects before starting to cough. Meanwhile, Gunn takes a couple whacks at the bones with the blade side of an ax. Then with the blunt side. Nothing. He walks over to Angel.

"They won't break."

"What won't break?"

"The bones. Mal's bones."

"Wish I could say the same for mine," Angel jokes. He tries to sit up.

"We need to get Connor to a hospital," Fred pleads.

"No hospitals," Angel insists. "He stays with me." Angel inherently fears letting Connor be to far away from him, especially when Connor's helpless. Also, Wolfram & Hart could find out where Connor is and kidnap him. Or worse. He knows they've always wanted to dissect Connor. No way Angel will run that risk.

"I don't think you understand how bad he's hurt. There could be internal bleeding," Fred argues.

"He'll heel. We'll take care of him. My son stays with me. They wouldn't know what to do with him anyway."

"Don't mean to rain on the parade, but how do we get home?," Lorne asks. "Our cars look to be sort of totaled."

"I think they'll still work," Fred guesses.

"Mine won't," Lorne answers. "Not without a sheet metal cutter." His roof is crushed into the cabin, so no one can get in until it's cut off.

"My car," Angel adds. "We need to go back for my car." He coughs some more, which he finds very strange. Why does he cough when he doesn't even need to breath?

"First we need to get you into mine," Cordy proposes.

"Connor first," Angel replies. "And don't forget the bones."

Fred's a little confused. "I don't see how we can, since they're inside his body. Least I hope they all are."

"He means Mal's," Lorne tells Fred. She and Cordy hadn't really noticed the skeleton.

"Yikes," Fred responds upon seeing them. "I didn't know that could happen." Gunn hacks the roof off Lorne's car with his ax, and Lorne gets in, along Wes and Gunn. Wesley sits across the back seat because of his shot-through foot, which he's tied his t-shirt around to try to stop the bleeding. The bones go in Lorne's trunk. Connor's placed on Cordy's back seat, with Angel lying on the floor behind that. Cordy drives with Fred riding shotgun and feeling a little nervous on account of there being no door next to her. They retrace their steps. When they get to Wesley's bike, he gets out and rides that while Fred limps over to Lorne's car. Gunn drives Angel's car home, with Angel lying on the back seat. Nobody says anything on the ride home. They're too weary and hurt and just plain blown away by everything that's happened.

Nina hadn't planned on fighting Buffy tonight. But Mal had given her an idea when he talked about ambush tactics. So she hides in Buffy's backyard, watching and waiting. After dinner and washing the dishes, Andrew takes the garbage bags out the back door and carries them to the garbage cans. Too insignificant. He won't do. Then Anya steps out with a smaller garbage bag. "Andrew. You forgot this one," she calls out. Nina thinks Anya is important enough. So Nina swoops in out of nowhere and grabs her off the back porch, which is not protected by the sanctuary spell. Andrew never hears her. He walks back, sees the bag, thinks he dropped it, takes it over to the trash cans, then heads back in. Nina carries Anya away at astonishing speed to a crypt in the cemetery, where she shackles Anya's arms to the back wall. At first, Anya was terrified. But now she's mostly annoyed.

"What do you think you're doing?," she asks Nina.

"What does it look like?"

"Like you've taken me hostage. Either to hold me for ransom or lure Buffy out to try and save me. But you blew it. Buffy is not going to rescue me. She doesn't care about me. She's not my friend. She's a friend of my ex-fiance. So there's no connection between us. Why didn't you just kidnap Dawn? That's what anyone else would do."

"She wasn't available. You were. And even if Buffy doesn't care about you, a man who's very close to her does."

"You know about us?" Her relationship with Xander should have been entirely irrelevant to the First Evil.

"My boyfriend told me. Gotta say, if I didn't already have the greatest boyfriend in the whole universe, I'd be a little jealous. You're a lucky woman, landing a man like that."

"I used to feel that way. You like him? Wait. That makes sense. You're hot and you're evil."

"He's easily the sexiest man in the bunch. Much sexier than that vampire."

"You really think so? You should tell him that. Xander would love hearing he's hotter from Spike. Even from someone as morally revolting as yourself."

"Xander?," a confused Nina asks.

"Of course, Xander. Who else is there?"

"Who else is there! Who else is there? What about the Watcher!?"

"Giles. You think I'm - whoa, are you misinformed. Why would you ever think the two of us were together?"

An angry Nina punches a hole through a foot-thick stone wall a few inches from Anya's left ear. "You don't think he's handsome? Worldly? Debonair?"

"I suppose he is all of those things. But he's also Giles. And he's old."

"He's a lot younger than the vampire. And he talks like he's a lot smarter."

"True. But Spike doesn't age. So, on the surface, he looks younger."

"If youth's what you value most, why don't you married a child?"

"I still can't get over the fact that you have the hots for Giles," Anya says with a laugh. "That is so hilarious."

"No. I only have the hots for my absolutely perfect boyfriend. I just can't understand why, given the choices you have, you wouldn't choose Giles. Unless guys aren't your thing." Nina smiles and reaches out her right hand, caressing Anya's left cheek and neck before running her fingers through Anya's hair. Anya gets a little nervous.

"Oh boy. Now you're getting me confused with someone else yet again."

"You're so soft. And smooth." Nina reaches her hand under Anya's shirt and touches her stomach. "And scared. I can feel your heart racing."

"Really? Because my heart's about six inches up. Not that I want you to put your hands there. Or, anywhere on me." Nina's done with her touching. She looks into Anya's eyes, and for an instant Nina's blue eyes glow even brighter than normal. "You wouldn't be trying to hypnotize me, control my mind so I'd do things with you I don't want to do? Because that would be wrong. Not as wrong as ripping my heart out. Is that the choice? Lesbian sex or painful death? Because, obviously I wouldn't choose death. But I wouldn't enjoy it. And that would probably make it a lot less fun for you."

Nina laughs. "You think I want to have you?"

"Well yes. Why wouldn't you?"

"Please."

"Oh, why not! I'm not good enough for you? You kidnap me so we can be alone. You tie me up and fondle me. And you expect me to believe you're not interested?"

"You're a toy," Nina responds before licking the right side of Anya's face. "Fun to drag around and play with. But you can't make love to a toy." Nina backs two steps away from Anya.

"You don't lick toys either. Though, I suppose you could. And you can have sex with toys. If they're life-size and anatomically correct. Not that I have. But, my point still holds that yours is a faulty and unconvincingly analogy. It's obvious you want me."

"So who is the Watcher planning to have sex with?"

"There's a plan? And if there is, how would you know about it? Shouldn't you be spending your time trying to figure out how to kill all of us, instead of picking up useless gossip?"

"My boyfriend told me the Watcher thought he was going to have sex very soon. He also told me that Faith's had some in the last month, while Buffy hasn't gotten any for over a year."

Anya assumes "boyfriend" is Nina's slightly creepy way of referring to the First. "Why is the First bothering to learn about our sex lives? This is causing me to seriously question your side's competence."

"Who's the lucky woman who's got the Watcher's heart?"

"Why should I tell you?" Nina puts her hand to Anya's chest as if she's about to rip out her heart. "Oh, this is just silly! You expect me to believe you're going to kill me for that little tidbit? You people are really beginning to disappoint me." Nina pulls her hand away.

"You're right. I'm bluffing. You're not important enough for me to kill."

"Well that's a very transparent attempt at reverse psychology."

"Reverse what? I can only kill those who pose a threat to my mission. You don't."

"There's no need to get catty. You made an incorrect assumption and kidnapped the wrong person. I know that's embarrassing, but we all make mistakes. Now, if you want, you can unchain me, let me go home and lure out Dawn, and then you can do this thing right. She's used to this, so she shouldn't scream or cry too much. I think you'll be very pleased with her performance as a hostage."

"They'll come for you."

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

"Buffy cares about her honor. I took you from her house. If she doesn't try to retrieve you, that dishonors her."

"Why didn't you also take Andrew? He was outside."

"I thought you were more important. And I still do. You're quite smart."

"Gee. Thanks," Anya responds with a smile. "It's nice of you to notice."

"Which is another reason you would be perfect for that Watcher."

"Will you get off this whole Giles jones?

"Suit yourself," Nina flippantly responds as she turns her back on Anya and walks out the crypt door.

"Hold on! You're just going to leave me here?"

"I can't exactly let you go."

"It's a graveyard. There could be hungry vampires lurking around. Untie me. Give me a stake. Let me fend for myself. I promise I'll stay put."

"I would never let anything attack you," Nina says before walking off. Anya sighs angrily and rattles her shackles.

"What is her problem? Is flakiness a part of her job description?"

About ten minutes after the kidnapping, Xander realizes something is wrong. "Buffy. Anya's gone."

"Yeah. So?"

"She didn't take any of the cars."

"Again with the yeah, so?"

"So, she's obviously been kidnapped."

"Why would anyone kidnap Anya?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could find whatever took her and ask. Right before you kill them, of course."

"You think it was Nina? Why? Sure, Nina's not the brightest Titan in the universe. Except, well, she is. Since she's the only one. But even Nina should know better than that."

"You said Nina told you she hated demons. That she loved killing them. Anya used to be a demon. Maybe that's enough to set Nina off."

"Then why wouldn't she just kill Anya? Kidnapping her seems a bit excessive."

"Buffy, I'm serious."

"I know. But where do we look? Where would Nina take her? Does she even have a base?" Xander runs down to the basement and grabs Spike.

"Spike, I need your help." Spike pushes him away.

"Hey. No touching."

"Do you know Anya's scent?"

"Does this have something to do with you still be sussed about me shagging her?"

"Grow up, Spike. Anya's been kidnapped. Can you track her scent?"

"Who the bloody hell would kidnap Anya?"

"I'm not sure. But someone has. Probably Nina. Don't ask me why. But can you find her?"

"I suppose I could try. But what if Nina's just trying to draw us into a trap?"

"And what if you don't fall for the trick? What do you think she'd do then?"

"Maybe rip Anya's heart out. Okay, I see your point."

Giles was out on a date, so Buffy had to decide on her own. She went along on the principle that she can't willingly let her enemy attack people. She has a job, a mission, after all. Going against Nina would be a serious risk. But if she declined, Xander would never forgive her. Faith also tags along. She's not one to miss a fight, especially now that Buffy and her are completely healed from their encounter with Nina on Monday. Plus, Willow was eager to head out. Not because she cared about Anya. But because she had spent the past three days preparing for payback. In Willow's mind, Nina had humiliated her. And she can't let that stand for long.

Giles and Estella sit at a small table in a cabaret in Santa Barbara, twenty miles south of Sunnydale. Giles drinks Scotch on the rocks, while Stella drinks a vodka martini. He wears a blue button-down shirt light and brown tweed jacket, while she wears a dark blue dress and has her hair pulled back.

"Something wrong, Rupert,?" Stella asks.

"No. Not at all," Giles haltingly answers. "Dinner was good. And the music is excellent."

"I meant something at work."

"I assure you that the demons who committed last night's attacks are gone."

"The Potentials haven't been at school all week. I take it that means you're in crisis mode. Life is getting tougher."

"Life," he says with a sigh. "You see, that's the problem. I've lost four girls in the past week. I'm here for one reason – to protect them. Clearly, I'm failing."

"I wouldn't go that far. Without you, they'd all be dead, right?"

"Yes, but that's in the past. Bringing them here, taking them to live with Buffy, that was only the first step."

"I'm not sure if this helps, but I know what it's like to lose people. I lost my younger brother when I was sixteen. My best friend in high school when I was seventeen. People in this town die all the time. And that's among people who don't have enormously powerful enemies gunning for them 24-7. This may sound cruel and callous, but I learned a long time ago that you can't save everyone. The best you can do is keep things from falling apart."

"You can't save them all? That's your solace?"

"Not solace. Reality. I'm here to make sure this town keeps existing. You're here to make sure this world keeps existing."

"This is a war. And in a war, there are casualties. What matters is saving the world. I've said that to myself, and to Buffy, countless times. I'm finding that harder and harder to believe as the casualties mount. And I'm beginning to think it's more of an excuse than a mission statement."

"Except that you begin feeling like a failure before you've actually failed."

"Yes, but I have to feel guilty before the fact. Because, if I do fail, there won't be any time left to blame myself."

"And then you'd feel guilty for not having felt guilty. Or, is it something else? Are you trying to remind yourself that it will feel worse if more people die? You sublimate the grief, you minimize the stakes. Instead, the more dire things become, the more dedicated you are."

"I think you really have helped me work through my guilt. Thank you, Stella."

"So I was right?"

"No. But by deconstructing it into incoherence, you've made me want to stop thinking about the entire subject."

"Glad I could do you some good," she jokes. The piano player and singer starts performing Johnny Mercer's and Harold Arlen's "This Time The Dream's On Me." "Rupert, would you like to dance?"

"I suppose that was implied by my agreeing to A night of dinner and dancing.'" Stella stands up and takes his right hand.

"Get up and stop responding to everything with a complete sentence." Giles stands up and walks with her out to the dance floor.

"If you insist," Giles replies.

"That's better." Giles is beginning the understand the Potentials' urge to snuggle with their boyfriends when things get tough.

Back in Sunnydale, Spike finds that following Anya's trail leads them to a familiar locale. "And I thought she hated vampires," he jokes.

"The cemetery," Buffy says as they cross the street and approach its gate. "So much for originality." Nina hides behind the stone column on the right side of the gate. As Buffy leads the way through, Nina comes out of nowhere, grabs Buffy and throws her head-first into the column she was just hiding behind.

"That depends," Nina says to them. Spike turns to his right and tries a right hook. Nina grabs him and throws Spike head-first into the opposite stone column. Then she kicks Willow in the chest with her left foot, sending Willow fifteen feet back and into the road. Faith lands a right hook kick to Nina's face. Nina lands a straight right kick to Faith's chin and a left roundhouse kick to her nose, knocking Faith ten feet back and to the pavement. Nina then turns around and grabs Spike's neck with her left hand and Buffy's neck with her right. After smashing both their skulls together, she tosses the two of them twenty feet over her shoulder, then turns around to face her enemies as they struggle to her feet. "Do you get your heads slammed into this gate a lot?" The whole ambush took about eight seconds. "Because, by the fact that I took you down so easily, I'm guessing the answer is no. Never done before: isn't that the definition of originality?" Nina looks quite different from the other times they've seen her. Mal had convinced her to try going upscale. She wears black Manolo pumps, black Prada pants and a matching black sleeveless shirt. Mal thought black would go well with her new red hair.

"Nice hair," Willow comments. "I guess imitation is your idea of flattery."

"I guess at least one person here needs an eye exam," Nina retorts. "Your hair is orange. My hair is red. That's the color of the blood that will soon start flowing out of your body. I've never seen anyone, human or demon, bleed your hair color."

"I'm not sure if you understand how this works," Buffy condescends. "You can't keep all four of us out here."

"We'll see about that."

"One of us gets by and finds Anya, then the rest of us are gone. Not that much fun from your angle. Or, we all choose to stay, and start doing to you what we did to your brother." She hopes the sibling references will get under Nina's skin.

"You still don't get it. I was built to win. My brother was built to die. Like you."

"Yeah. The rules say the two of us should have died years ago," Buffy responds. "We have a habit of breaking the rules."

"So does your witch. That's why I'm here. You three are definitely rebels."

"And what about me?," Spike asks, a little hurt. "Did you forget?"

"You, I always forget." Buffy charges Nina and throws a right roundhouse kick. At the same time, Spike jumps over the ten foot-high stone wall. Nina blocks the kick and sweeps out Buffy's left leg, knocking her down. Nina leaps over the wall. A few seconds later, Spike flies over the wall and back into the street, where he lands quite painfully. Nina leaps out soon after. "Just because I forget about you doesn't mean I ignore you." Nina looks at Buffy. "Is he really the best you can do?" Spike rushes in and lands a left cross and a right uppercut to Nina's face. She leaps in the air and lands a right roundhouse kick that sends Spike spinning through the air before he falls to the ground. "Maybe he is. From what I here, that other vampire couldn't do much better against me. Then again, who can?" Buffy wasn't paying attention to Nina's blabbing, so she misses the Angel reference. "Maybe you can. My boyfriend says you're the strongest. He thinks you're the one who holds everything together. Let's see you prove him right." Buffy approaches. Nina retreats to the gate. Spike comes in on Buffy's left and Faith on Buffy's right. Nina doesn't see Willow. In fact, she's not even looking for her.

Willow stands behind Nina, waiting as she backs up. When Nina's within range, Willow sticks the fingers on her right hand into Nina's skull. She wants to perform the same spell she did on Glory shortly before Buffy killed her. Nina certainly looks surprised. Buffy is hopeful. After three seconds, Willow removes her hand and a shaft of white light shoots out from Nina's skull. Nina grabs Willow's neck with right left hand, lifts her feet off the ground and turns to her right to look at Willow as she chokes her.

"Did you just finger me?," NIna asks with a smirk. "Maybe I'll return the favor." She puts her left hand to Willow's head, squeezing down lightly on Willow's skull with her fingers as she runs them through Willow's hair. "Would you like that?" She pulls her left hand down. "Or, would you like it better if I fingered you somewhere else? I know I would." Willow can't speak, and so is limited in the defensive magics she can use. Nina points her left hand in Buffy's direction. "Make one move, and I snap her neck." She loosens her grip, but still keeps Willow dangling in the air. "Relax, orange. I ain't gonna kill you." She tosses Willow to the other side of the street. "You're too much fun to play with."

¬I should have known that trying to hurt your brain wouldn't do any good,"

Buffy jokes. "You hardly ever use it."

"Is that why I keep kicking you ass?," Nina shoots back.

"No, that's because your brother was there to tire us out. Before we bashed open his head like a ripe melon."

"And because I was holding back," Willow adds. Her eyes dilate and started glowing a dark red.

"Wow!," Nina exclaims. "My boyfriend's eyes are the same color. That is so cool!" Willow holds out her right palm, out of which emerges a fireball. When it hits Nina, her body goes up in flames. Buffy's plan is to use Willow to soften Nina up before the rest of them attack. It appears to be working. Nina opens her mouth and starts sucking air – and flame – into her body. Six seconds after being lit up, the flames are gone. And Nina doesn't appear hurt. Even her clothes emerged undamaged. Nina blows a long stream of smoke out of her nostrils. "I like," she says with a smile. "First you finger me. Then you make me all hot. Can you detect a pattern?"

Buffy, Faith and Spike attack simultaneously. When Nina squeezes her fists, they turn fiery. She hits Buffy in the mouth with a right jab, and Faith in the jaw with a left uppercut. Nina turns to her right to face Spike. He puts his left hand around her right fist when she tries to punch him, causing him pain but extinguishing the flame. Nina knocks his feet up off the ground with a left uppercut to the stomach. She holds her fist against his shirt long enough to set it ablaze. Then walks back to Buffy and Faith. Two seconds after punching Spike, the fire disappears. She's expended all the energy Willow put into her. Spike rolls along the ground for a while, trying to put the fire out. "Thanks baby," Nina says as she looks at Willow and winks her right eye. Willow's starting to understand the nature of Nina's powers. She tries to figure out how to hurt somebody who can apparently absorb unlimited amounts of energy.

Buffy and Faith, their faces blackened where Nina hit them, attack yet again. The plan is to hold Nina in place while Spike escapes and finds Anya. But another vampire has gotten there first. He opens the door and looks in at the woman chained to the wall. For a vampire, that's like gift-wrapping. He smiles and growls. Anya gets worried. "This, for your information, is a trap," Anya tells him. "I'm bait. You come in and eat me. Then the Slayer swoops in and stakes you. So, we both lose. You understand?" The vampire steps forward and tries to enter. But he's barred. He looks confused. He tries again, and slams his face into an invisible barrier. "Okay, I lied," an equally stunned Anya remarks. "You don't kill me, and you still die. So run along now." He pushes his hands forward, and they strike the barrier. He growls, shakes his head and walks away. Anya stops sweating, and her breathing and heart rate slow down. This must be what Nina meant when she said she wasn't going to let any vampires hurt Anya.

Faith lands a straight right kick to Nina's chin, and Buffy adds a left hook kick to her right eye. She backs up and puts up her hands to defend herself as Spike makes a run for it. Nina blocks Faith's right hook and downs her with one of her own. Buffy lands a right jab to her nose, but Nina knocks her down with a left hook. Nina looks at Willow, who's twenty feet in front of her. "Come on, witchy woman. Hit me with your best shot." Willow doesn't do that, but she does throw a glob of sticky white gunk onto Nina's hands, gluing her palms together. The harder she pulled, the tighter it would get. Which is why Willow thought it could turn Nina's powers against her. Buffy lands a left hook, and Faith connects with a right hook. Nina does a back flip to buy time. She ducks under Buffy's punch, leaps above Faith's kick and does a split on the way down, hitting Faith with her left foot and Buffy with her right while she's still in the air. Once she lands, Nina knocks Buffy back with a left roundhouse kick, does a forward flip over Faith's head, spins and downs her with a right hook kick when Faith turns around. Buffy charges in as Nina struggles to pull her hands apart. She discovers that this does not help. But she puts Buffy on the ground anyway with a back flip kick to the face.

"Nice thinking," Nina concedes as she walks towards Willow. Willow holds up two glowing aqua spheres about the size of bocce balls. Nina laughs. "I hope I'm not the only one who sees the irony. No. I guess I am. Do you even have a sense of humor?"

"About evil?," Willow asks herself as the balls float above her head and start spinning. "Sorry," she tells Nina with a shrug. When Nina is ten feet away, the balls fly at her eye sockets. They deform her face and nearly push her eyeballs into her cerebral cortex, but quickly bounce away. And when they do, Nina's face returns to normal, though she does look hurt. Willow figures she can keep this up as long as Nina's hands aren't free to grab the projectiles. 

Spike follows Anya's scent to the crypt. He opens the door and tries to rush in. Anya looks disappointed to see him. "No! Spike, you can't enter. She made it like a house. Vampires have to be invited in."

"Then invite me the bloody hell in!"

"I'm guessing Nina has to do that."

"Well at least give it a try."

"Fine." Anya sighs. "Yes Spike, you may enter. But don't take that sexually." Spike groans and tries to cross the threshold, but is stymied. "See! What did I tell you? No go and get someone who can help me."

As Willow's eyes darken, she brings her weapons next into Nina's knee caps. They dent her knees for a second, before then they pop back. Willow brings her spheres fifteen feet to Nina's left and right before smashing them into Nina's ears. As Willow does this, Nina uses all her strength to squeeze her palms together. The resulting pressure heats and denatures the glue, causing it to lose its stickiness. Nina smiles and rips her hands apart as the balls hit her ears. The powerful blows cause her to wince. The magic glue falls to the ground in little flakes.

"Do unto others," Nina tells Willow as she reaches her arms out wide. Buffy grabs her left wrist from behind, and Faith grabs her right wrist. Nina brings her hands together, easily breaking out of the Slayers' grips. She boxes Willow's ears, causing her to tumble to the ground with a nasty concussion. Buffy nails Nina with a left jab, right hook and straight right kick. Nina backs up. "Hey calm down. You're friend's lucky I didn't squeeze, make her eyeballs pop out. And you know why I didn't?"

"Because you're really all talk?," Buffy asks back.

"Because she can't hurt me. To me, she's as good as powerless." Willow hears this as she struggles to her feet. Blood's started to trickle out of her ears. Nina really couldn't have picked a more serious insult. Buffy looks back at her best friend with concern.

"It's okay Willow. We'll get what we came for." But right then, Spike comes running back.

"It's no bloody use. She has it rigged. Vampires can't enter unless Nina invites them in."

"Took you long enough," Nina says as she pulls Spike towards her and head-butts him in the nose. "How about someone else tries. Not you, honey," Nina says as she points at Willow. "I'm not done with you yet."


	37. Blinded

Nina works some nasty mojo on Willow. Then she learns about Mal's death, and vows to make Angel and Connor pay.

Faith runs by Nina to her right. Nina turns, leaps at Faith and hits her in the head with a flying left hook kick. Faith's forehead smashes into a stone gate column. Nina adds a left hook to Faith's right cheek, knocking her down. Spike grabs Nina's arms from behind. Buffy comes in and hits Nina with a left cross and a right hook. Nina knocks Buffy back with a right kick to the chest. Then she breaks free from Spike's grip, turns round, picks him up off his feet with a right uppercut and sends him flying back into a tombstone with a right kick to the chest. Abandoning Faith and Spike, Nina leaps at Willow, who forms a forcefield around her body. Nina shakes her head.

"You really think you can build one I can't break?," she asks Willow before reaching her right hand out to pierce the shield. It breaks. But before doing so, it elongates towards Nina, pushing her back before popping. This knocks Nina on her butt. For the first time, Willow's hurt her. Buffy stands over Nina, holding a rock eighteen inches in diameter. She throws it down. Nina is able to put her arms up just in time to deflect the stone away from her head and keep it from getting smashed. Buffy leans down and lands three right crosses to Nina's face. Nina eventually pushes Buffy to her left and vaults to her feet.

"I wasn't planning on getting rough tonight," Nina tells them. "But let's just say that you've both inspired me." Buffy lands a right hook kick to Nina's face, then tries a left roundhouse kick. Nina ducks the roundhouse, then levels Buffy with one of her own. While Buffy's down, NIna kicks her in the back with her right foot, causing Buffy to roll twelve feet away. Willow shoots bolts of electricity out of her fingertips. They strike Nina, causing her to shiver on impact. "Got me feeling all tingly inside," she tells Willow. Buffy steps up and connects with a right hook. Nina lands a right uppercut to Buffy's stomach and a right roundhouse kick to her face. She blocks Buffy's right kick and lands a right kick to Buffy's ribs. She blocks Buffy's left jab and right cross, countering with two left jabs, a right cross, a left uppercut and a right hook. Buffy goes down. NIna slowly approaches Willow, who fires an orange ball of energy at NIna. She disappears. The orb hits the right stone gate column, destroying it and some of the adjoining wall. Nina rematerializes behind Willow and puts her left arm around Willow's waist, running her right hand through Willow's hair. Standing fifteen feet to Willow's right, Buffy can only watch, lest Nina decide to take advantage of Willow's vulnerability and kill her. Nina glances at Buffy, enjoying the look of powerlessness in her eyes. She pulls Willow's hair away from the right side of her neck, and puts her mouth to Willow's right ear.

"You're going about it all wrong with these remote spells" Nina explains. "To do good magic, you need something to touch." Nina smiles, then licks the right side of Willow's neck as Willow looks sickened and nauseous. Nina then spins Willow behind her and walks away. After nine revolutions, a very dizzy Willow stops spinning. Buffy charges Nina and throws a leaping right kick. Nina blocks it, throwing Buffy down on her butt. Always one to try harder when things got tough, Buffy stands up and threw a right hook. Nina blocks the punch with her left arm and puts her right hand under Buffy's chin, forcing her eyes to look upwards into Nina's face.

"No thinking. All instinct and reflexes," she tells Buffy. "Like a wild animal. And you call me dumb." Nina tosses Buffy twenty feet back and to the ground. She holds up her right index and middle fingers, which are covered in blood that was leaking out of Willow's ears. She puts the fingers next to her hair and looks at Willow. "See. Same color." Then Nina puts the blood to her lips, closes her eyes and begins chanting. "Utilo olen xan colo eltimosh sai." She opens her eyes, and they glow brightly in Willow's direction for an instant. Willow immediately looks disoriented. Nina walks up to the injured Buffy. "This would be when the regrets start. Me, I regret not being able to let my boyfriend fight you. You got a boyfriend who you think could take me?"

The crypt door opens. Faith enters. "Faith!," Anya exclaims. "I'm so happy to see you." Anya thinks for a second. "That's definitely something I never thought I'd hear myself saying." Faith loosens the screws holding the shackles around Anya's wrists and frees her.

"Thought she'd rough you up a bit more," Faith comments upon noticing how bruise-free Anya is.

"Well, it's not like I was capable of putting up much resistance. Speaking of which, where's Buffy?"

"I thought Slayers were special," Nina says to Buffy as she gets up. "Chosen to fight and defeat evil. Which, I guess, in this scenario, would be me." Buffy throws a right jab and a left roundhouse kick, both of which Nina blocks before landing a right hook kick, straight left kick, right roundhouse and left hook kick, all to Buffy's head. She goes down hard. "Looks to me like the only difference between you and every other human on this planet is, everyone else is smart enough to run away when I come around." Buffy looks to her left at Willow, who no longer appears to be in the game. "Don't bother," Nina says before kicking Buffy in the face as she tries to stand up. "I already took care of her. Showed her more than her eyes could handle." Buffy stands. Nina lets her land a right hook. Nina responds in kind. Buffy goes down yet again. "My boyfriend said you're supposed to be one of those extra special Slayers. The best of the best. If that's true, I'd like to see how easy the other Slayers are." Nina picks Buffy up and hurls her forty feet across the road. She lands on the jagged pile of rocks left behind from Willow's unintended destruction of part of the gate and wall.

Willow stands there as if she can't tell where she is. Nina walks up and shoves her left index and middle fingers into Willow's mouth, putting Willow's own blood on her tongue. "How's it taste?," Nina asks as she holds Willow's jaw open and removes her fingers when Willow tries to bite them. "Now, now. Remember to play nice." Nina casually lands a right roundhouse kick to Willow's chest, knocking her to the ground. Then Nina calmy walks away with a pronounced bounce in her step. Everything's been coming up roses for her the past few days. A few seconds later, Faith and Spike run over to Buffy, who's lying there on the rocks. She looks up at them. They can tell she's had a thorough thrashing.

"Where's Willow?," Faith asks.

Buffy looks very concerned. What with getting beat up and all, she had forgotten about Willow. Buffy struggles to her feet and staggers over to Willow, who's sitting on the grass on the other side of the street. "Willow? Willow, are you okay?," Buffy asks.

"Buffy, is that you?," Willow asks back.

"Of course it's me. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? I'm blind. That's what's wrong."

"What the hell," Faith exclaims. "How?"

"She did a spell."

"Omigod," an exhausted and horrified Buffy sighs. "Willow, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's okay. It was just a spell. I can undo it." Buffy and Anya help Willow to her feet. Anya looks at her eyes.

"Your eyes are fine."

"No Anya. I'm pretty sure they're not."

"No. They're fine. You just can't use them. There's a difference. All the blindness spells I know alter the appearance of the eyeballs."

"Me too. Not that I ever thought of using any," Willow adds defensively. "But you're right. That would seem strange."

"We'll help you get better," Buffy promises.

"First, help me get home."

Angel and Connor lie on the floor of the lobby, with their very bloody shirts off and their stab wounds bandaged. Fred's heel, Cordy's thigh and Wesley's foot also have bandages wrapped around them. Lying on the floor behind Angel and Connor are Mal's bones.

"Just get me into bed. I'll be fine," Connor insists before coughing up more blood.

"Sure. And then we can leave you alone to choke to death on your own blood," Cordy responds.

"There isn't enough left in me to choke on," Connor darkly jokes.

"We'll get you upstairs once we can clean these wounds a little better and get your pants off. Of course, I won't be doing that last part," Cordy nervously adds.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," Connor quips.

"I'd slap you if you hadn't just save all our lives."

"I can take my own clothes off."

"How? You can't even bend your knees. Or your back. I think we need to get some ice on that knee. It's the size of a cantaloupe."

"How's he doing?," Angel asks Fred and Gunn.

"Like you," Fred responds. "'Cept a little less broke."

"Course, our kind can't get as broke as your kind can before breaking," Gunn notes.

"Take me over to him," Angel demands. They're on opposite sides of the circular couch.

"Sorry," Cordy says as she walks over to Angel. "You'd bleed on each other. How is he?," she asks Fred about Angel.

"He feels softer than usual."

"Angel's been tenderized," Lorne adds. "They both have."

"Hello. Is Giles there?," Wesley asks on the phone.

"Who's calling?," Andrew asks back.

"This is Wesley."

Andrew gets excited. "Really? Oh. Sorry, Wesley. Wyndham Price." His heart jumps when he breathlessly add the two last names. "I should've guessed from your accent. How is life as a," Andrew takes a deep breath, "Rogue former British agent."

"Is Rupert Giles there?"

"No. I can take your number and he can call you back."

"Just tell him I called."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Wesley. I'll be sure to pass that on." Wes hangs up. Andrew is a bit flush from the conversation with the man he believes is the closest living embodiment of his Timothy Dalton James Bond fantasy. Wesley walks towards the others and shakes his head.

"I'll never understand Buffy's willingness to tolerate fools."

"You get Andrew?," Lorne guesses.

"Who's that?," Angel asks. "I thought you were talking about Xander and Spike."

Nina pops into the Orpheum Theater. "Mal? Lover? Your baby's here. Where are you, honey? You like my new clothes? I got them just for you. Say, how do you feel about witches? I found a cute one. Real feisty girl. She helps Buffy, but she's fair game. We can tie her up, take turns. Or, if that's not your thing, you can just watch the two of us. You know, before you drain her. But that's tomorrow night. Tonight, it's just you and me, lover." Nina looks around the cavernous theater. "And all this space. No windows. Guess that means we can go all day. Where are you, Mal? You should be done with them by now. This isn't like you, baby. You're not one to keep a lady waiting. Fine. I'll find you myself."

The Potentials sit around the living room in a circle.

"They've been gone a long time," Rona notes.

"She'll be back," Kennedy promises. "They'll all be back."

"I'm sorry, but what's to stop her from killing Anya?," Amanda asks. "She could do it in an instant."

"Same goes for Spike," Ariella comments.

"He was supposed to turn against us," Fadila reminds them. "But he hasn't. So why should the First keep him alive?"

He's not a Slayer. He's not a Potential Slayer. He's not a Watcher," Madari answers. "Those are three good reasons."

"Buffy will protect them. And so will Willow," Kennedy assures them. Buffy may occasionally have feet of clay, but Willow's never let Kennedy down.

"Even Spike?," Ella asks.

Kennedy shrugs. "I think it's kind of a package deal."

Buffy walks through the front door. She has two black eyes, swollen and bloody lips and nose, and a big purple bruise on her right cheek. Spike and Faith also look hurt, though not nearly as bad as Buffy. Willow holds onto Buffy's arm. She doesn't quite look like her usual self. Xander and Kennedy run over to them. Willow takes the railings and heads straight upstairs, naturally not noticing them. Kennedy follows, very worried. Xander hugs Anya.

"Thanks," Anya tells him. "Though, I'm the one who did absolutely nothing. Then again, I think a hug might hurt Buffy right now." Not wanting to let the Potentials see her so injured, Buffy also went upstairs. Faith and Spike followed, thinking she might want to talk strategy.

"What happened?," Xander asks as he and Anya walk into the dining room.

"The usual. Nina drew them into a fight. And the unusual. Nina has a thing for Giles."

"That's strange," Xander responds.

"I know. I assumed she'd have a thing for you. It gets weirder. She thinks I'm his girlfriend."

"What!? Why would she think that? What would the two of you do to make her assume something was going on?"

"Relax. It's simple. She thinks Giles is expecting to have sex. She assumes it's with someone in the house. Simple process of elimination."

"Why would she think about something like that? Something so, disturbing?"

"I know Xander. It's also hard to imagine one of your parents having sex."

"Very not fun. And better yet, why would she even care?"

"I think she's bored. But she knew Faith had sex not too long ago, and that Buffy hasn't gotten any in more than a year. So clearly the First has been dishing the dirt."

"And, why would an all-powerful evil entity - "

"Give a damm? You got me."

"You think she took you because she thought you had a connection to Giles?"

"Maybe. Oh, I almost forgot. She has magical powers."

"Nina?"

"She put me in a crypt, but set it up so vampires couldn't enter. And she blinded Willow."

"She did what!!!?"

"A little louder, so everyone can hear."

"Sorry. Oh God."

"With a spell. So it can be undone."

"Willow," Xander says to himself before running upstairs. Anya walks into the kitchen as Andrew comes into the dining room to talk to her.

"So what happened? How was life as a hostage? Were you scared?"

"Not really. But having your arms chained above your head for a half-hour really hurts the shoulders."

"Looks like they had to fight pretty hard to spring you loose."

"No. Nina didn't care about me. I was less of a hostage and more of a pretext."

"A pretext for what?"

"For showing the big guns they're not big enough. The bad guy, or girl in this case, establishing her invincibility. I've seen it all before." She walks into the kitchen and opens the freezer. "We got any more of those fudgesicles?"

Right then, Giles comes home, looking quite happy. "Hello," Giles says as he enters. "Did I miss anything?"

Andrew walks up to him. "Nina kidnapped Anya. But Buffy and Willow and Faith and Spike got her back."

"Oh really," Giles responds with concern. "Perhaps I shouldn't have left."

"Don't worry," Anya says, walking down the hall towards him. "You wouldn't have been able to stop her. Or even slow her down."

"And Wesley called," Andrew adds. "He just said to tell you he called."

Rupert's mind was on the kidnapping of Anya. But, after a few seconds, he remembers what Wesley's call meant. At least there was some good news that evening.

Nina materializes after performing her locater spell. She's standing on the balcony of the Hyperion, overlooking the lobby. She opens her eyes and checks it out. "This is new. Did you come here for an after fight snack? And who are those people? Mal, where are you, baby?" Nina looks up and down her side of the balcony. Then up and down the other. She's thinking of checking out the rooms when she looks down and sees the bones. Her heart sinks through the floor. "Baby? Lover? Honey? How?" Nina surveys the scene. An emasculated Pylean. Two human women. Two human men. All tending to two men on the floor. She could tell one was a vampire. The other was a young man whose not-quite-human power she could sense. They were both physical wrecks. Then it hit her. The vampire. His son. Mal's bones. He had lost. Somehow, he had lost. Mal was gone. Before they can notice her presence, Nina teleports into the forest on the hills to the east of Sunnydale. She starts smashing tree trunks with her fists, felling lumber left and right.

"The one man I meet who relates to me, who understands me, who satisfies me, who makes me happy. The one man, in my entire life, in all of history, who deserves me. Who I love. And they take him away. Thirty six of the greatest hours of my life, and those bastards take Mal away from me. My beautiful, brilliant, powerful Mal. How? How the hell did he lose!? How did those two measly, broken down creatures kill my Mal? How!!?" She keeps pounding away and screaming out in despair. Then Nina stops. "Wait. Why am I hitting these things?" Nina manages a tiny grin. "I can kill them. The vampire and his boy. Rip their hearts out. Rip all their organs out. Make them scream until their voices give out. Then I'll smash their skulls, scoop out their brains." She rubs her hands together. "They'll pay. They. And the others. Those humans. That demon. But only after I make them watch. Then I'll smear their guts over all of Buffy's windows, so they'll all know what's in store. Back to finish my baby's work. I think I'll start by ripping out their kneecaps." But Nina discovers that she can't teleport. Darla walks up to her.

"I'm sorry, Nina."

"What have you done to me?"

"You can't kill them. They're not involved."

"Not involved? They hurt me!"

"You're here to do a job."

"I work better when I'm happy. And Mal made me so happy. Ecstatic, actually. And constantly."

"Did he do that thing where he hangs you upside off a balcony and uses his tongue?"

"Were you spying on us?"

"Of course not," Darla responds with a smirk. "I understand the pain of losing the one man you belong with. Especially if the man has a body like Mal's."

"I know," Nina says, managing a small smile. "Absolute perfection. And he had the cutest chin. Those high cheekbones. Big, soft, tender, ferocious eyes. And those lips. And let's not forget his hair."

"You could pour blood on his belly. Watch it fall off his stomach muscles, filling the spaces in between like perfectly-straight canals in some imaginary city, with his belly button a tiny pool in the middle. And then slowly drink it up, licking and slurping."

NIna gives Darla, who seems to be enjoying this a little too much, a suspicious look. It almost sounds to Nina like Darla's recounting some flashback. But she assumes it's just a fantasy. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Always. I know so much, there's never time to tell you everything."

"I meant about Mal. About my baby. My lover. My one and only." She starts wailing away at the hapless trees yet again. Someone's going to notice the swath of destruction in the morning and just shake their head. "Why can't I kill them!? Why!?"

"You know why."

"They're against us, aren't they? The two who killed Mal?"

"In the long run. Which is why they will die. But not now. Only after."

"That's not good enough. They have to know why they'll die. They must know it's for Mal."

"You can't hurt them until you take care of Buffy. You want to take your vengeance out on someone? Take it out on her."

"She hasn't hurt me. She can't."

"Yes she can. By stopping you before you can have your sweet vengeance against that vampire and his boy."

"You're the one who's stopping me."

Darla thinks about this. Nina, of course, can't appreciate the irony of Darla pleading with her to spare Angel's and Connor's lives. The First considers choosing another form, but decides against it, since Nina likes and trusts Darla. "You want to make them suffer? Then don't put them out of their misery. Make it long and slow. Make them know what it's like to fight for a losing cause, to see their world dying all around them. Make them know your pain."

Nina calms down. "Okay. But they will suffer. And they will die."

"If you make them," Darla reassures her. Nina walks away. She wants to be alone in some barren wilderness for a while, like her brother. She's beginning to understand his thirst for solitude. But, unlike Seth, Nina could have her catharsis. And thanks to Connor and Angel, Sunnydale was far more than just another job to her.

Connor's propped up in bed. He picks up the phone and dials Dawn. "It's me."

"Connor. You sound sick."

"No. I'm good." He coughs twice and grabs his broken ribs.

"You don't sound good."

"I'll be fine. That thing that had me upset: we killed it."

"You and Angel? Together?"

"Sort of. I mean, I killed it. But he helped out." Dawn could tell he was stretching the truth to make himself look good. "But it's over. Everything's gonna be okay. Well, as okay as things can be without you. I really miss you, Dawn. Especially now, when I'm hurting after a tough fight."

"I'm sure this won't be the last time."

"Hope it's the last without you around. When does school end?"

"About a month. Assuming we all make it out alive."

"Are things bad?"

"In Sunnydale? Always. You've been here."

"I know. It was a vacation compared to LA."

"Well, you've had a rough couple months. But that sorta stuff's never happened there before. In Sunnydale, we have stuff like that all the time."

"So you're saying it's usually better around here?"

"It was when I lived there. Or, think I lived there. Eleven years, and just a couple vampires. Ask your dad. It's not exactly apocalypse central."

"And so what if it is? So what if bad things keep happening? I'll be fine long as you're around."

"That's sweet, Connor. As long as that wasn't a wish. Or a prediction. I'd like to think bad luck doesn't follow me wherever I go."

"No Dawn. You're the only good luck I ever had. What I meant was, I can take anything if I have you. I'd rather live in Quor Toth with you than here without you."

"Let's not put that one to the test."

"Can you visit this weekend?"

"You're talking about LA, right?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry. School."

"Not on the weekends."

"School work. Plus no car. Plus, my sister."

"Since when did you let her stop you?"

"Since just about always. And, things are a little hectic around here. This really wouldn't be a good time to cause a distraction."

"You wouldn't be distracting anyone over there if you were here."

"Trust me. I would. Let's just leave the visits until the world's no longer in danger of being devoured by the Hellmouth."

"Isn't the Hellmouth always gonna be there?"

"Okay. Until the First's no longer doing the devouring. And when that's the case, Buffy will probably be so happy she won't even care if I come down to see you."

"Can't wait."

"And Connor, I'm really glad I was right about you and Angel working good together. And it's great the two of you are finally getting along."

"We are?"

"You're risking your lives for each other."

"Doesn't mean we're getting along. Not yet, anyway. I think he's finally coming round and showing me respect."

"Connor. Please stop giving him a hard time. Let me put it this way: if you're really nice to him, he'll probably be so happy he won't even mind me coming round for a visit."

"Oh." Connor smiles. "You really think?"

"Well, yeah. If he lets you hang around after everything you've done, Angel must be desperate for your love and affection. It's the only explanation."

"Could I use that against him?"

Dawn groans. "I'm not telling you to exploit his love. Just to try loving him back for a change. Good things will happen."

"Like the two of us living together?"

"Connor! I'm not talking about us. Sometimes you really worry me."

"Don't worry. I'll behave."

"Well, let's hope you don't get too boring," Dawn jokes.

"Don't think I've ever been that," Connor jokes back.

"And I don't think you ever will." They hang up. Giles enters.

"Sorry if I'm disturbing you, Dawn, but we're researching Willow's, umm, ailment, and we need all hands on deck."

"What ailment?"

"No one told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Nina used magic to take away Willow's sight."

"What? Oh no. And Willow can't undo it?"

"It doesn't appear to be any standard blinding spell. Hence the need for intensive research."

"Okay, okay. I'll be right down." Dawn rushes downstairs with Giles. She realizes that sometimes she worries so much about Connor that she forgets about matters closer to home. Back in LA, Fred walks into Connor's room.

"Hey champ," she says with a big smile. "How ya holdin' up?"

"Okay."

"You look scared."

"And you look happy. The last time you smiled at me like that was right before you tasered me. Which was right here."

"Connor, please. Why would I taser you?"

"I dunno. Cause you don't trust me."

"I'm not the type to hold grudges. Unless you do something, really, really bad to me. Like sending me to a demon dimension cause you're jealous of my scientific talent. Okay. I'm rambling. But you and me, we're all squared up."

"Five by five?"

Fred looks a little confused. "I suppose. If I said that. Or even knew what it meant. But we're okay. You were a real hero out there tonight." Connor smiles. Fred rubs his hair playfully. He winces.

"Ow. That hurts right there."

"Sorry. Sleep tight." Fred kisses him on the forehead, turns off the light and leaves the room. The whole mommy role feels very strange to her, though she knows it would feel even stranger to Cordy. Besides, she's beginning to understand how sympathetic Connor can be when he's badly wounded.

Nina spends the night strolling down the beach, listening to the waves. Darla walks up and puts her right arm around Nina's shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I really am. He must have meant a lot. Cause I've never seen you like this. He was different. Not like the others."

"Mal made me think about the future. Our future."

"Together? You know how hard that would be for a woman in your line of work."

"Yeah. But he made me dream. Didn't matter that if it was all a fantasy. Cause it was such a great fantasy that all I needed was the tiniest chance it could ever come true. Just that little bit of hope. And now it's gone. And nothing matters. I can grind all my enemies into dust - "

"You have. On more than one occasion." This causes Nina to flash a small, quick smile.

"I know. But this time it won't make me happy. I feel numb. I pounded that Slayer. I totally messed-up that witch. Normally, that would make me feel fantastic. But now, there's nothing. Can you bring him back?"

"Excuse me?"

"He's dead. You can bring back dead people. You could change into him. And since I can touch you, I could touch him again!"

"It's hard to do that for people who don't die in this town. Almost impossible. Unless it's to tempt one of our enemies. I'm sorry."

"Guess that was too much to ask."

"Nina, I have an idea. After you defeat the Slayer. Both Slayers. All Slayers. Forever. After that, they'll be the mopping up phase. You know how that can drag on for a while. Well, once the Slayers are gone, I'll see what I can do about bringing Mal back. It won't really be him. He couldn't do anything."

"Except me. You mean it?"

"Of course. For you, I can bend the rules."

Nina smiles. "Well then. Guess I got my motivation back."

"Poor Buffy," Darla sarcastically comments. "She's gonna pay for a vampire she didn't even slay."

NEXT: Dawn's visions get her into trouble.


	38. A Vision Gets Dawn in Trouble

It's Friday morning. Angel and Connor lie on adjacent twin-size beds in Connor's room. Angel wants to spend this downtime with his son. And having them in the same room makes it easier for everyone else to tend to their needs.

"Can't we watch something else?," Angel asks his son.

"What? You don't like the Sopranos?"

"It's too amoral. Good never triumphs."

"That's what's interesting. It's all about power. But it's also about fitting in. Tony's got this secret life everyone kind of knows about but pretends they don't. His kids have to live with it. It's gotta be strange having a dad who's a killer."

"You're not identifying? Please tell me you're not identifying. Please."

"It's completely different. Like if you made a ton of money as Angelus, and used it to pay for a big home I lived in a big car I drove. Wait. Is that how you got this place?"

"Of course not. This hotel wasn't evil built when I was Angelus."

"And I like seeing stuff where humans kill humans for a change. You know, a fantasy world where there aren't any demons, and all the badness comes from people. It's a whole new thing for me."

"You see what Tony's going through? The malaise. Sleeping late. Depression. I was the same way for two years in the 1880s. Without the shrink, of course. Except that one session in Vienna, which was your mother's idea. It's a classic mid-life crisis. He's bored with being a criminal. It's no longer fun. He has to regain his inspiration. Either that, or stop being evil. Which wasn't an option for me." Wesley walks in. "We're ok," Angel tells him.

"Gunn's taken a sledgehammer to the bones. Nothing. And sunlight has no effect either. As you might expect, his bones are far denser than human bones. They weigh about twice as much. Which would indicate Mal was twice his expected weight: about 350 pounds."

"That would explain why he was so tough to throw," Angel comments.

"It also means his muscles had to achieve an unheard of density, simply to hold up his bones. Which helps account for his remarkable strength. By the weigh, the doubling of his weight means Mal only drank half his body weight in blood each day. Which is still baffling. I understand why he needed so much energy to move his heavy body so swiftly. But I don't see how a creature his size could absorb such a high volume of liquids. I do plan to analyze some scrapings from the bones to assess their chemical composition. The added density alone cannot explain his durability. They had to be put together differently."

"What does any of that have to do with us?," Connor asks petulantly.

"I just thought you should know. And, by the way, I came up to tell you that a doctor will be by to see you in a little over an hour."

"What kind of doctor would see me?," Angel wonders.

"His name's Raymond Chesterton. He used to be in SAS. We became friends after I left the Council. He knows what you are."

"And he's worked on other vampires?"

"Of course not. But bones are bones. Unless you're Mal, but that's beside the point. We don't know how many fractures you suffered. There's a high probability that some of them, if left to heal on their own, could heal crookedly. Which would not be good for. So Ray's going to check you out. Connor as well."

"What does that mean?," Connor asks. "Is he gonna cut me open?"

"No. Heavens no. That's not how doctors work."

"Oh. I wouldn't know. Never been to one.

"Yes you have, Connor," Angel tells his son. "I took you to a check-up when you were a baby. But I've never been to a doctor. That wasn't a common thing when I was alive."

"Seeing how neither of you can walk, I think it's a wise move."

"Wesley," Angel says as Wes walks out of the door. "Another cup?" Wes walks over and takes Angel's empty blood glass. Connor also holds up his glass.

"Very well. One blood and one grape juice coming right up." Wes limps out of the room in pain. "I think I'll get Lorne to carry them back up."

"I see how life could be tough for Anthony," Angel tells Connor. "Having a mobster for a father. Thought not a tenth as tough as what you've had to go through because I'm your father."

"Most of that stuff wasn't your fault. Not completely. Besides, it's not like you wanted me, anyway."

"Connor, that's not true, and you know it."

"You know I was an accident."

"No. You were a miracle. There's a huge difference."

"Whatever."

"What I'm trying to say is, I know how much you've suffered because of me. And I know that, even now, the life I provide you with is painful.

"It's okay."

"No it's not. I wish I could give you a normal life. I always have. Something fun, and innocent, and full of everything you missed out on because you were my son." For Angel, the one benefit of their injuries is that Connor can't storm out. He finally has time son to bond with his son.

"I know I can't be normal. But I can be great. Miracles happen for a reason. That's what Dawn says. I'd like to find out what that reason is."

"I never knew you saw things that way."

"I didn't. Before Dawn. She made me see that life was more than pain and lies. That I didn't have to always do what someone told me." It sounded to Angel like Connor was doing was Dawn told him. Though the idea of Dawn being so controlling seemed utterly ludicrous to Angel.

"After you came back, I dreamed that we'd be able to fight together, side-by-side, like we did last night. I didn't think it would be so painful. But, I guess, that's the way things go in my life."

"Someone had to kill him. Who else coulda done it? We saved a lotta people."

"We did," Angel says with pride. "We're not a bad team."

"You made a really good diversion. Distracting Mal so I could hurt him."

"You know I was more than that."

"Just kidding. That's what Buffy said I was – a diversion."

"She did? How dare she."

"That was when we were fighting this demon that's like a vampire ancestor."

"A turokh-han? They're not so tough if you know what you're doing."

"No. It was older. And bigger."

"A Tur-am?"

"I think that's what Dawn called it."

"I've never seen one of those. And you and Buffy killed it together?"

"Yeah. It left its bones, but they broke real easy."

"This was before she knew who you were?"

"Uh-huh."

"Strange thinking of the two of you fighting together. On the same side, I mean."

"I had no idea you knew her."

"She lives in Sunnydale. You knew Cordy was from Sunnydale. It's a small town. They're the same age. Didn't it ever occur to you that they might have known each other?"

"I thought Cordy was too cool to hang around Buffy. And I didn't know you lived there."

"How did you think I met Cordy?"

"After she moved to LA. I just thought you had always been here. At least for the past few decades or so."

"I was here a few decades ago. That's why I got this hotel. Wanna know how?"

"Okay. Guess I don't have a choice." He pauses the dvd.

"Don't worry. It's a good story. With demons. And violence."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?," Cordy asks Wes downstairs in the lobby.

"You know how seriously the both of them are hurt."

"And I also know one of them is dead, and the other is something more than human."

"Raymond knows vampires exist. Furthermore, he'll act with the greatest discretion. You can trust him."

A little while later, the doctor arrives. He's in his mid-thirties, with slightly unkempt, spikey brown hair and blue eyes. He wears jeans and a black Pierre Cardin shirt with the right shirt-tale out. His slightly disheveled appearance more resembles a biologist than a medical doctor. "Good morning. Where are the patients?," he asks in his suburban London accent.

"Third floor," Wesley answers. "I'll show you the way." The others follow. Lorne meets them on the stairs and is immediately embarrassed.

"Oops. Sorry. You know you really need to tell me when we're having company."

"Empath?," Raymond asks.

"Why yes," Lorne answers with surprise and relief.

"Doctor Raymond Chesterton."

"Lorne." He smiles as he shakes Ray's hand. "I didn't know you were in the trade. Perhaps you've heard of me. I used to run Caritas, and had a summer residency in Las Vegas."

"I don't get out much. Though Wesley did recommend your club by name more than once."

"You did? Why Wesley, I had no idea you ever tried to do me a favor."

"By the time I decided to see the place, it no longer existed."

"Yes. We had a problem with that."

"I have a colleague is Sussex who did an interesting paper on empath brain function. I'll see if he can send you a copy."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer not seeing what's behind the curtain."

"A true man of the stage." Ray enters Connor's room. "Hello. I'm Doctor Raymond Chesterton. I guess I'll start with Angel. Who I would guess is the gentleman on my left. I'm going to set up in a room across the hall. Your friends said they could help you get over there."

"Doc. One thing," Angel sheepishly responds. "Do I have to get naked?" The doctor looks confused and uneasy. He takes off his glasses and cleans them with his shirt tail.

"I don't see why. Unless something was damaged you'd like me to take a look at."

"No. Absolutely, one-hundred percent no."

"Thank heavens," Ray says with a sigh of relief. He's curious about vampire anatomy. But not that curious.

Over at Wolfram & Hart, Clayton triumphantly strides into Daniel's office. "What did I tell you?"

"When?"

"The other day, when you were worried about Mal. He's dead."

"And how do you know this?"

"I have my ways. Or, way," Clayton says with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Mal is no more. Angel and Connor won't be out and about for a while. And I haven't even gotten to the best part."

"Do tell," Daniel responds with calculated disinterest.

"As you know, Mal squeezed the gangs. He made them subservient to vampires."

"Guy did more in a week than most of us do in a lifetime. You really have to admire his ambition."

"Yes. And profit from it. Mal introduced the LA vampire community to organized crime. Emphasis on organized. Turf. Hierarchy. The whole nine. And now, the head is gone."

"Let me guess: you want to replace his with yours?"

"Not really. I just want to play one group against another. They counted on Mal to protect them. Soon, they'll discover that they need us. And through them, we get the gangs, and the cops."

"We already have them."

"Yes. But with the vampires in our pocket, we can have better coordination. Less conflict. They're like this great weapon we can unleash at will. And with that threat, we can get our way."

"Vampires aren't terribly social. It's been tried many times before, and it's always failed. They can't stay organized for very long."

"They can when they know the rewards. Mal's given them a taste of power. And riches. They won't want to let that slip away."

"And what will happen when they realize they're just puppets of this law firm?"

"They'll split up. Get killed. Leave town. In other words, they won't be our problem. But until then, we profit from what Mal started. This is what I meant by waiting for the right moment."

"Yes. Nothing like letting someone else do all the work for you," Daniel derisively responds.

"You're one to talk."

"Would you be referring to the Vengeance Demons?"

"You mean the demons you pimp."

"I am not their pimp. I am not even their boss. Technically, I'm merely their manager."

"Whatever you call it, it allows you to take a hefty cut."

"The money doesn't matter. Anyway, with me they make far more than they used to. It's the leverage they provide. The ability to intimidate foes and reward friends. Vengeance demons are basically genies without the ironic trickery."

"Fairy godmothers. Without wings, but with scales."

"Don't laugh. You know how delighted the Senior Partners were when I brought them aboard."

"Which wasn't terribly difficult. The way I understand it, they realized their boss was dead, you doubled their salaries and offered excellent benefits, so they flocked here. Big surprise. Their old boss treated them like dirt.

"Demons don't know how to properly treat talent."

"Which is why even Michael Ovitz could have poached them."

"Believe me, he tried. But they didn't like his recent track record. How do you think I found out about the situation? His assistant tipped me off."

"He still has assistants?"

"One. Or, rather, he did."

"You gave the turncoat a job as a gesture of appreciation?"

"No. I had him devoured by a pack of Gavrosh demons. I'm not one to share glory," Daniel ominously tells his office rival. Clay, as always, betrays no worry. It seems he never has a care in the world.

"Speaking of shared glory, where's your mother these days?"

"Somewhere in the South Pacific. Micronesia. Or Polynesia. I'm not sure. She's doing wet work."

"Killing, or scuba diving?"

"A bit of both."

Meanwhile, fifty miles off Vanuatu, three men climb into a yacht and take off their diving gear. Daniel's mother, a tall, slim, stern-looking woman in her early sixties, glares down at them.

"The explosives failed to detonate."

"It's very hard to set off small charges underwater."

"I want results, not excuses."

"It could have been the wiring. Let me check. I might be able to fix it."

"Ten minutes ago, a tiny explosion was supposed to create a hole their hull about six inches in diameter. By now, their boat should have sunk, the victim of an apparent accident. Instead, they have no idea we're even after them."

"Which is a good thing. It gives us a free second shot."

"I suppose you are correct. You will get an opportunity to redeem yourselves. But first, pick a straw." She holds out her right hand. The men pause, then do as they're told. The leader, the one who had done all the talking, draws the short straw. He goes pale almost immediately. "When a Roman army failed to do its duty, it would be subjected to decimation. One-tenth of the men were clubbed to death by the other nine-tenths. The Romans were merciful." She hands a bat to each of the other two men. They can't believe they're being asked to do something so horrible. She points a Luger at them. They realize they have no choice, and begin beating their unfortunate comrade. Afterwards, she'll have them weigh down and dump the body, then swab the blood off the deck. Hopefully, this will traumatize them into never screwing up again. And, if it doesn't, she can always find more operatives.

Angel and Connor are back in their beds in Connor's room, taped up and wearing several air casts. All their friends are in the room too hear Raymond's diagnoses and recommendations. "It goes without saying that each of you suffered injuries last night which would have killed a normal human being six or seven times over. Since you are able to survive such immense punishment, I have no reason to doubt your abilities to heal fully and quickly. That said, your cases are exceptional. You have friends to care for you, and more importantly, to carry you to safety before other vampires or demons, drawn by your spilt blood, finished you off. This is new territory, so you need to be careful. Angel, you have a shattered ankle, several fingers with multiple fractures, a broken collarbone, a dislocated shoulder and a broken arm. In addition to several bruised vertebra, numerous broken ribs, and multiple skull fractures. One of which caused part of the bone to sink into your brain, which is why I brought it back up and forced you to wear that silly-looking bandage."

"By the way, how long do I need to wear that?"

"Since your other skull fractures appear to be healing with astonishing quickness, I'm going to be an optimist and say you can take it off tomorrow morning. Your body appears to devote a disproportionate amount of resources to healing your head, most likely because of what it contains. The casts should be left on for three to five days. By holding the bones in their proper places, they will help speed the healing process. The chest wrap around your ribs can probably be removed in two to three days. I would suggest you both refrain from fighting for at least a week."

"Is that a week from today, or last night?," Angel asks.

"Last night. I can tell you'll violate that one the first chance you get. That's a warrior's nature. But do try to give your body as much time to heal as possible. Otherwise the same injuries could recur."

"What about me?," Connor inquires.

"I was just about to get to you. Connor, you have an apparent stress fracture in your right foot, a bruised left patella, torn cartilage, and probably a torn MCL ligament, as when a partial ACL tear. For any other patient, I would recommend surgery, followed by four to six months of recuperation. But, in your case, I recommend ice for the next forty-eight hours. Twenty minutes on, twenty off. If it doesn't improve, then find an orthopedic doctor to take a look at it. Hopefully, it will. In addition, you have a fractured left tibia, a right arm that's been broken in two places, three inflamed vertebra, numerous broken rights, a deep contusion on your sternum, multiple skull fractures, and serious internal injuries accompanied by substantial internal bleeding. Please do not have any solid foods until Monday at the earliest. And then, have them only if you can touch your abdominal region without causing intense, shooting pain."

"Only liquids? Like my dad?"

"Different liquids." He looks at the others to make sure this is the case. The thought of blood made him remember something. "Also Connor, you have a bruised right kidney. It should be better in a week. In the meantime, you may notice that you're, well, pissing blood." Connor's eyes bug out. This sounds strange and disturbing. Though it would have been far worse if he'd discovered this on his own.

"Otherwise, my son is fine?," Angel asks.

"Yes. Other than his numerous mortal wounds and crippling injuries, your son has a clean bill of health."

"So he's healthy? For a kid his age? Connor hasn't had a physical in a really, really long time, so I just want to be sure you didn't pick up anything unusual."

"There is one thing. His resting pulse is twenty. Which would be a little high. If Connor were a whale. For a human, it's exceptionally low."

"Is that bad?," Angel asks.

"No. Quite the opposite. It means his heart is extraordinarily. healthy. His aerobic capacity is off-the-charts. Marathon runners and cyclists will sometimes have resting heart rates of about thirty. But twenty is well-nigh unheard of. Connor has a very strong, very large heart."

"Large?," Angel asks with trepidation. "As mean an enlarged heart? Isn't that a problem?"

"No, no, no. It's like Lance Armstrong, whose heart is one-third larger than normal. Or Secretariat, whose heart was twice the normal size for a horse. As ratios go, Connor's probably somewhere in between. I would also guess that his cardiac muscle cells are themselves more productive than normal."

"Dawn always says I have a big heart," Connor remarks with a smile.

"I'm sure, whoever that was, she wasn't being literal," Raymond responds.

"She also noticed my heart beat really slow."

"Well then. Perhaps she was." Not wanting to delve any deeper into any aspect of Connor's private life, Raymond decides to wrap things up. "My work here should be done. Thank you both for being such cooperative patients. It's been an education. And try not to put any weight or stress on your broken bones. Staying in bed will only aid the healing process, and get you back on your feet even faster." Ray grabs his equipment and walks to the elevator with the others.

"I hope they weren't too much trouble," Wes says to his friend. He can only imagine how difficult Connor could be as a patient.

"No. They were reasonably well-behaved for two people who've never been examined by a doctor before. Though, when I was probing to find where his fractures were, Connor appeared to think I was trying to hurt or even torture him. I did my best to explain this was the only way to find what's wrong, seeing how I lacked an X-ray machine. Of course, he didn't know what that was. But he calmed down when I said I had done the same to Angel. In fact, he asked if Angel cried out in pain more than he had. He seemed very eager to upstage his father, to display more toughness, even in that setting. Quite remarkable. But hardly unheard of. We all feel an urge to prove we're better than our fathers," Ray tells Wes with a knowing glance. Ray also has parental issues, trying to live up to the example set by his dad, the Cold War spy who worked behind the Iron Curtain, and his grandfather the war hero.

"For them, that kind of competitiveness is healthy," Fred explains. At least Connor was trying to show less pain than Angel, instead of trying to cause Angel more pain, as had been Connor's strategy in the past.

It's half past twelve. Dawn is sitting in Spanish class. For about fifteen seconds, she spaces out. Dawn looks around, to make sure nobody noticed. Then she gets up and walks out of class without asking for so much as a hall pass. She exits through the school's front doors, walks to the edge of the parking lot, stands under a secluded tree where no one will hear her and pulls out her cell phone. She has both Angel Investigations and Connor's room number on her speed dial. She goes for the main desk, since by this time Connor should be downstairs. Lorne picks it up.

"Angel Investigations."

"Lorne, is that you?"

"Dawn?" He finds it weird they haven't met but can already recognize one another's voices. "Did you have another vision?" Wes, Gunn, Fred and Cordy rush around Lorne. All of them can't help but notice the bad timing. Their two big stars were on the bench.

"Can you put Fred on?," Dawn asks. "No offense, but I know she's smart, and really good with numbers, so I think she'd be best for taking stuff like this down." Lorne finds it even odder that Dawn's already rating the abilities of people she's never even seen.

"How about I put you on speaker, so we can all hear?"

"Okay. Your call."

"First, let me get Angel and Connor and the line."

"They're not with the rest of you?"

"Father-son bonding thing."

"Oh. That's great." Dawn was elated to hear of this, though she'd be less elated if she knew the bonding was the result of a forced convalescence. Lorne dials Connor's room on another line and patches them into the main line, telling them to put their phone on speaker. Connor wants to talk with Dawn, but Lorne insists on business first, since the vision could be time dependent.

"Hi Dawn," Connor says.

"Hi."

"We're all set," Lorne tells her from downstairs.

"There was a boy. About nine. Small. Maybe average-size for his age. But not big. Curly black hair. Brown eyes. He was in a classroom. Maybe the third grade. The teacher called him Gregory. Looked like a public school. No uniforms. And I could see out the window. There was a playground, with a swing set, and a baseball diamond with a back-stop. Right behind the playground was a highway. Up in the air, above the ground. That's all I got. No monsters. No time. But it's definitely during school, and it's definitely today."

"What was he wearing?," Cordelia asks, determined to find things the new vision girl left out.

"Jeans. And a red and white rugby shirt."

"Obviously his parents are caught in a fashion time warp," Cordy quips.

"Thanks Dawn," Angel says. "We'll go with that." He still can't get used to Dawn being part of the "team."

"Cool. Glad I could help. Bye." Connor turns to his left to look at Angel.

"Isn't she great?"

"She's . . . helpful." That's the best he can muster about someone he knew shouldn't be a part of his life. Dawn puts away her phone and starts to walk back towards the front door. She's stopped outside by a security guard.

"Can I see some I.D.?"

"I'm going to school. Not a freaking night club." She walks by the glorified hall monitor, who grabs her left arm. Dawn's first instinct is to punch the woman, but prudently she holds back. After all, she isn't a demon.

"You know you can't leave the building during school hours."

"Funny. Cause I have before. Guess I just never got caught." Dawn's feeling the arrogance of someone who's involved in something larger, something petty high school authority figures could never understand.

"Can I see your I.D.?"

"Fine." She pulls it out of her pocket and tosses it contemptuously to the woman.

"Dawn, I'm going to write you down for three day's detention."

"Come on! That's ridiculous. I was out here for two minutes. Four, maybe five at most. In fact, you're making me miss just as much class by making me wait here."

"Watch your mouth before I make it more." Dawn goes quiet, pouts, and in a few seconds gets her card back. She walks back inside. In the office directly to her right is the acting Vice-Principal turned acting Principal since Monday, when the acting Principal (and former Vice-Principal) was devoured by demon razorbacks. He sees the security guard with Dawn.

"Miss Summers. What an unwelcome non-surprise."

Dawn rolls her eyes. "Hello Mister Griffin." He was vice-principal at the school she attended before the high school was rebuilt. So he was well aware of her past discipline problems.

"Are we reverting to old ways?"

"I had to make a call." Griffin types a few things into his computer and looks at her schedule.

"No. It appears you had to be in Spanish class. Good thing you were caught before you left school grounds. Lucky for you, this will only bring five days detention."

"What? She said three."

"Three for leaving during lunch period. Five for leaving during a class. See you at 3:15." Dawn groans and returns to class. She privately wonders why, out of everyone, this guy was the one school administrator who hadn't been killed. It seemed so unfair.

The gang heads upstairs so Angel can lead their discussion. He doesn't lead so much as take care of the discussion itself. "Get a map. Go online. Do whatever you need to find all the public elementary schools within a quarter-mile of a freeway. Try to get into the LA central school's database. Search for third graders named Gregory. With either a one syllable English last name or a Greek last name."

"Why one syllable?," Wesley wonders.

"The teacher called him Gregory. No one says Gregory Louganis, or Greg Peck." They figure out Angel's intuition. "Cross reference the names with the schools in the right location. If you can, try to find pictures of the kids, to see if one of them matches the description. Hopefully that won't matter. Once you narrow it down to a couple places – Fred, Gunn, Wes, Cordy – you four drive out and try to find this kid. We don't know what's going to happen to him, so just stay close and watch and wait.

"What do we drive?," Cordy asks.

"What about your car?"

"Have you seen it? You think we can go around in a wreck like that in the middle of the day without everyone – including the bad guys – noticing us?"

"What about my car?"

"It's missing a windshield, but I guess it'll do."

"Who gets to drive?," Gunn wonders.

"Cordy."

"Excuse me?," Gunn exclaims.

"Sorry Gunn. I trust you, but she's the one who's driven it before. Now get to work."

"We forgot one thing," Gunn points out. "It's a white kid. In a public school. Which means we can rule out whole chunks of the city right away. And she never said he was in the city. The freeways make that most likely, but he could be out in the suburbs."

The four of them, along with Lorne, leave. "You sure they'll find him?," Connor asks Angel.

"We sure won't," he replies. Connor realizes his dad is right and flips the television back on.

Around half past two, Buffy gets an unexpected call. "Thank you very much for calling. I'll be sure to take care of it. You have my word that this sort of thing will never happen again." Buffy hangs up and puts her hand to her forehead.

"Something wrong?," Giles asks, assuming it's work-related.

"Dawn just scored herself a week's detention."

"For what?"

"Cutting class." Both of them worry Dawn might be returning to her old ways. This time, Dawn has a good excuse. But it's an excuse Buffy will definitely not be happy to hear. And you know what that means: Angel will be hearing from a very brassed-off Buffy.


	39. Buffy's Big Surprise

At the end of the school day, Dawn comes up to Kit's locker. "Okay if I come over to your house today?," Dawn asks.

"Sure. Okay," a somewhat surprised Kit responds.

"When's your dad coming home?"

"I dunno. Five. Five-thirty. Why?"

"Something's wrong with Willow."

"Is she evil again?"

"No. But something that is evil hurt her. With magic. And we can't figure out what."

"Fine. I guess he's worth a shot."

"I got detention. So how bout you swing by here at three-forty five?"

"Hold on. What did you do to get detention?"

"I cut class. Went outside. But only for a few minutes."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons." Elijah walks over.

"What's up?"

"Dawn got detention."

"Good for you. But you should have told us earlier. Then Kit and me coulda broke some rule so we could keep you company."

"Easy for you to say, senior," Kit responds. "You're just running out the clock by now."

"And here I thought I was dating a bad girl." Kit playfully elbows him in the ribs. "Guess we'll see you after you do your time."

"Actually, we're kind of having a girl's thing this afternoon," Kit explains to Eli.

"Okay. See you tonight, Kit?"

"Sure."

"You don't sound so enthusiastic. How come?"

"Eli, you're my guy. You know that. But sometimes you're, well, a little clingy."

"Are you trying to tell me you need your space? That's can't be good."

"Chill. Just cause we're dating doesn't mean we need to spend every minute together. You know what I mean, Dawn?"

"No. Since Connor's too far away to be clingy. But I know that if he were here, he'd want us to be pretty much joined at the hip 24-7."

"Or joined at other parts," Eli jokes. Dawn whacks him in the mouth with the back of her left fist. He grabs his nose. "Ow! That really hurt."

"Don't be such a baby. I barely touched you."

"It's the principle of the thing. You don't hit someone who can't hit back."

"You don't know how to throw a punch?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Guys can't hit girls."

"They can't?," Dawn asks. "What world are you living in?"

A demon smacks Cordy with the back of his right hand, knocking her into the pool table. "Okay. If that's the way you want to negotiate. Fine!" Cordy grabs a cue stick, stands up, turns around and shoves it through the demon's heart.

"Cordelia!," Wes yells out in disapproval.

"He hit me!"

"So hit him back. Don't kill him," Gunn advises. "He can't tell us anything if he's dead."

"But his friends can."

"Or, we could kill you," the leader of the four — now three — demons threatens. A demon comes at Fred from behind. She spins round and beheads him with an ax. It doesn't matter than none of them are even close to 100% because of their injuries. After a week of getting pounded by Mal, it's great to fight something that's a little easier to kill. Like jumping around in your sneakers after a few days of wearing lead shoes.

"You were saying?," Lorne taunts. The two remaining demons look at Gunn with his bat and Wesley with his shotgun. If that's how the girls act, they'd hate to test the guys.

"What the hell," the leader says with a sigh. "They're not even our kind."

"Then start talking," Gunn orders. "We don't have all day."

Dawn gets home shortly after dark. "Where have you been?," Giles asks her. "Buffy's been worried sick."

"Right now, aren't I the least of her worries?," Dawn asks back.

"Look Dawn," Anya begins. "We understand your natural adolescent inclination to rebel. But now isn't the best time to go delinquent."

"What are you talking about? And where is everybody?"

Giles explains. "Buffy and Faith the basement, training the girls. Xander's in the garage with Andrew, trying to fix up our vehicles. Willow's upstairs."

"Oooh! That reminds me. I think I have an idea about what hurt her. I wrote it down this morning before I left for school," Dawn fibs. She reaches into her pocket and hands Giles a piece of paper.

"That can't be it," Giles responds.

"Why can't it? It fits perfectly with the symptoms."

"Let me rephrase. Theoretically, this could be it."

Anya looks at the suggestion, scoffs and finishes Rupert's sentiments. "This only works on evil witches."

"Not necessarily." Buffy comes upstairs.

"Where have you been? Detention got out three hours ago."

"You knew about that? Of course you did. Griffin has it in for me. I thought you'd understand. Anyway, I had dinner at Kit's. I didn't want to get in the way around here."

"Would that be why you didn't even bother to call?"

"I thought you'd be busy. All of you. And you don't have to worry about me. I'm not one of the girls the First is trying to kill."

"That doesn't give you the right to misbehave."

"Misbehave? Like you never missed a class."

"That was completely different," Giles jumps in. "She had to train." Dawn's feeling tempted to reveal her secret.

"How can you be sure I didn't also have a good reason?"

"Okay. Try me," Buffy says as she folds her arms and waits for Dawn's lame excuse. Dawn pauses for a few seconds.

"I had to help someone. They were in danger."

"Really. Who?"

"I'm not sure."

"Dawn, don't waste my time."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"You think I can't make a difference?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not."

"If you wanted to help someone, why didn't you come straight home after school to help us?"

"Now you're changing the subject."

"Dawn. Quit playing games."

"I'd tell you, but you wouldn't believe me."

"I'm getting sick of this. Just go to your room and stop wasting my time." Now Dawn goes for it.

"But maybe you'd believe Angel. Or Wesley. Ask them if I make a difference."

"You're making even less sense than usual," Anya comments. "What does this have to do with Connor?"

"Quite a bit. Never mind."

"You cut class to give him a call?," a somewhat outraged Buffy asks.

"Only because lives were at stake."

"Don't give me that. What has gotten into you? Ever since he showed up — "

"Buffy, I think you need to sit down. I don't know how to say this, but when I do say it, you'll be pretty freaked out."

"You're pregnant?," Anya asks. A tiny part of Buffy and Giles worries that Anya's on the money.

"No. But it does involve something Connor did to me which he didn't mean to." Buffy tries to prepare herself for whatever awful thing Dawn is about to tell her. A few minutes later, she's doing enough screaming to draw all the adults into the kitchen.

"He gave you what!!?," Buffy yells. Xander comes in the back door.

"I heard yelling. Is something wrong?"

"I am going to kill that kid," Buffy vows.

"Could you be more specific?," Xander requests.

"That bastard."

"Buffy, don't call him that," Dawn demands.

"Technically, he is a - ," Anya mentions.

"In both senses of the word," Buffy adds.

"What did Connor do this time?," Xander asks.

"He gave you visions!," Buffy exclaims. "That boy is so selfish."

"I'm saving lives. What's selfish about that?"

"What's selfish is, you're not in LA. Which means you're the last person who should be getting these things. I can't believe he'd do this. No, I can. But I can't believe Angel would let Connor do this to you."

"Dawn has the sight?," Spike asks. Considering the only person he knows who got visions was Drusilla, this is a tad frightening.

"I don't understand," Giles stammers. "Where do they come from?"

"I dunno," Dawn responds. "Some higher power."

"You mean you have what Cordy had?," Willow asks.

"What do you mean what Cordy had?," Buffy inquires. The Dawn-Cordy juxtaposition sickens Buffy as much as the Dawn-Drusilla juxtaposition sickens Spike. Willow tries to explain.

"I don't know the whole story, but Cordelia used to get these visions of people in trouble. They were warnings about the future. She'd tell them to Angel, and he'd go save the person."

"Cordy was a precog?," an astounding Xander asks. The unsettling comparisons continue.

"Kind of. I guess," Willow haltingly answers. "But she'd only get them occasionally. Like once or twice a week."

"That's cheating!," Xander exclaims. "We have to do research. Track down the monsters ourselves. No one sends us an invitation: demon. Nine o'clock. Attacking a nice couple in the alley behind the hardware store. Bring weapons.' Can you imagine how easy our lives would be if we knew things like that in advance?"

"Angel's definitely cutting corners," Spike adds.

"Guys. You're taking this the wrong way," Dawn pleads. "It's a good thing. Last Thursday night, I help save a boy and girl about my age from a vampire attack. Today, it was a nine year-old boy. I'm not sure from what. And Wednesday night, I helped save Angel's life."

"Bloody hell!," Spike yells out. "Can't he save himself? Some hero."

"What do you mean you saved Angel?," Buffy demands to know.

"I had a vision. He was alone and in danger. Thanks to me, his friends got there in time to help him out."

"Bloody pathetic," Spike comments. "Boring old sod can't do anything on his own."

"I'm confused," Willow begins.

"We all are," a still-shellshocked Giles concurs.

"That's not what I mean. How could Connor pass the visions to you? That sort of mystical transfer requires a lot of magical power. It would be tough for me, let alone Connor."

"What about kam-shaking?," Anya suggests.

"Beg your pardon?," Giles asks back.

"Kam-shak. The transfer of mystical powers through sex. That can do the job. Even if neither person knows the first thing about magic." Now Buffy is very red-faced.

"Oh, I am going to kill that boy."

"So it's like the clap?," Spike asks Anya.

"A sexually-transmitted gift. Not a sexually-transmitted disease. Though visions have been known to kill. But I'm sure that won't happen to you, Dawny. It makes complete sense. Cordy passed it on to Connor, and he passed it on to Dawn."

"No. That's not how it happened," Dawn objects. "Cordy gave it Angel."

"Angel did what with Cordelia!!?," Buffy exclaims. As if she wasn't mad enough at him already. Dawn continues.

"Then Angel gave it to Connor. And Connor passed it on to me." Everyone goes quiet for a few seconds.

"Angel gave it to Connor," Buffy repeats. "We're not talking about kam-shaking, are we?"

"I certainly hope not," Giles responds expressing the sentiments of everyone in that room. "With every fiber of my being."

"I'm confused," Xander declares. "Who did Cordy get them from?"

"An Irish half-demon," Willow answers.

Xander cringes. "She did it with a demon!"

"Could you be any more hypocritical?," Anya asks.

Willow tries to sort things out. "Doyle — I think that's what Cordy said his name was — worked for Angel when he first came to LA."

"That little mick was demon?," Spike asks himself.

Willow goes on. "He threw himself on some very powerful mystical device, giving his life to save the world. Or, at least, to save thousands of people."

"I did that," Buffy notes with outrage. "I hate it when people copy me."

"Doyle died a couple months after Cordelia arrived in LA. We were freshmen in college."

"Wouldn't that make you the copycat?," Anya quips.

"Before he did this, Doyle kissed Cordy, and that gave her the visions." Then it comes to Willow. "Angel must have taken the visions when he kissed Cordy."

"Angel kissed Cordy? When did this happen?," Buffy demands to know.

"It was a friendly kiss. Loving, but not at all sexy. She was in a coma! Because I had sucked the evil out of her. The kiss woke her up. Right after I gave Angel his soul back."

"And the first thing he did was kiss Cordelia?," Buffy asks.

"Buffy, calm down. It's not like there was tongue or anything."

"Guess Xander's not the only hypocrite tonight," Anya notes. Buffy's hardly in a position to get jealous, even if there was something to get jealous about.

"But how did Connor get it?," Willow asks.

Dawn explains. "Angel couldn't receive the visions because he was dead. So he did this spell his friends found to transfer the power to Connor. But Connor couldn't get the visions because he already had super powers."

"Then how on earth did they jump to you?," Giles wonders.

"Because Connor loves me. We're soul mates," Dawn tells them with a smile. Buffy and Xander cringe.

"They just traveled ninety miles?," Willow asks.

"Well, yeah," Dawn responds.

"That's impossible," Anya declares.

"It's obviously possible," Spike retorts. "It bloody happened."

"You can't just send something like that over long distances. It's a mystical power, not a phone call."

"Even if the person doing the sending is a witch or a wizard," Willow says, "the power involved would be staggering."

"Guess he really loves her then," Spike impishly concludes. He likes the idea of Dawn and Connor coupling because it puts a wedge between Buffy and Angel.

"A lot," Willow adds. "A scary, frightening lot."

"That's not happy, running though the meadows love," Anya comments. "That's crazy, destructive suicide pact love. Although I'm sure it will work out in your case, Dawny. With a minimum of bloodshed and carnage." Anya and Willow both look blown away and disturbed as they ponder the amount energy needed to make such a transfer possible.

"Wouldn't the receiving of visions cause side effects?," Giles asks.

"For humans, yes," Willow responds. "Cordy got these horrible, debilitating migraines. They were going to kill her until she became part demon."

"Connor's going to turn you into a demon?," Buffy asks with dread.

"No. Of course not. I wouldn't have gotten these visions if I couldn't handle them."

"How?," Willow inquires.

"Something to do with my having been a Key. This immortal demon from The Powers That Be came down and explained it all to Angel and Connor."

"How is it any of their business?," Anya asks.

"They're the ones who send the visions."

"Yeah. Sure. And the sun moves through the sky because it's being pulled by a chariot. Is Angel really that gullible?"

"I haven't a bloody clue what you're talking about, but I'd say yes," Spike responds.

"Cordy told me the same thing," Willow notes. "They're these Higher Powers Angel's worked for since he went to LA. They help him help people."

"No Willow. The Powers that Be have no powers. Demons call them The Greater Fools. They trick poor saps like Angel into thinking they're like demigods or something. But they can't do anything. They're omniscient, but powerless. And if you're staking your life on their beneficence . . . that must be why Angel's always suffering so horribly. It's not his soul. It's his stupid faith in those powerless Powers. I need to give him a call."

"Sorry. Me first," Buffy tells Anya.

"Of course. Go ahead and throw your Slayer-strength bitchy fit." Buffy lets this slide. She has bigger fish to fry. And right now, she has a question for Anya.

"You said these guys lie. Could they be lying about Dawn being able to handle the visions?"

"You think I'm too weak? They don't even hurt me. They hurt that Doyle guy, and he could take them. So I can completely handle them."

Anya answers Buffy's questions. "They don't lie about what is. Or what's happened. That's the one thing they can do right. But they do lie about why things happen. Like how they tricked Angel into thinking they're the ones who send down the visions. You know, I would have thought Lorne could see through them. And Wesley and Fred read all those books. Someone should have figured this out for Angel by now."

"Or he could be a man and find out on his own," Spike suggests. "Wait. He can't. Cuz this is Angel we're talking about."

"You're telling me you don't think they're lying about Dawn?," Buffy asks.

"Probably one of the few things they haven't lied about to Angel. Don't worry, Buffy. If Dawn couldn't handle the visions, she'd get skull-splitting migraines until, one day, the back of her head would explode. So we'd know. Before any exploding, of course."

"How long has this been going on?," Buffy demands to know.

"Only since last Thursday."

"Eight days. More than a week ago. And you never thought of telling me?"

"I didn't know what it was. Not until the next day. But that's when Seth came. So you had other things to deal with. And then there was Nina. I didn't want to distract you."

"How long were you planning on keeping this secret?"

"I don't know. Until we went a day or two without a Potential dying, or Xander losing his hand, or Willow losing her sight. I thought those things were more important."

"She has a point," Xander says in defense of Dawn. "Guess what? I can see the future!' would have a little out of place."

"You're defending her?," Buffy asks Xander.

"Let me think. Girl gets a special power she didn't ask for and doesn't understand. Something that sets her apart. Occasionally gets her into trouble. So she tries to hide it from others. Even her family. Sound familiar?"

"Xander, it's not even close," Buffy shoots back. She can't believe he would have the gall to compare the two.

"Buffy's right," Anya concurs. "Seers live a lot longer. They're not hunted on a nightly basis by demons. Although their eyes can fetch up to twenty thousand dollars on the black market. Twelve thousand each if sold separately. So, there's that risk."

"How do you know that?," a reasonably outraged Dawn demands to know. "What, is there a commodities market for things like that?"

"I wish," she says with a laugh, before realizing she's the only one laughing. "You hear things. And Giles, I know for a fact at least one of our Magic Box suppliers wasn't averse to dealing in this kind of contraband."

"Maurice?," he asks.

"Lenny."

"Really? Leonard seemed so straight-arrow and above-board."

"I know. They're always the dangerous ones."

"How common is this sort of thing?," a nervous Dawn asks. "How much of a risk is there?"

"For you, not much. Your sister being the Slayer, they'll be scared of retribution. Cordy would have enjoyed the same sort of protection because of Angel. Then there's Connor, who, unlike Buffy, probably has no moral qualms about horribly torturing and slowly killing anyone who tried to hurt you. So you're doubly covered."

"Cordelia was working with Angel," Buffy points out. "She was right there to tell him. You're here. You hardly know Angel. Why would you get visions that are meant to help him?"

"What if they're meant to help Connor?," Willow surmises. "Okay Buffy. Even though I'm blind, I know you're giving me some super-strength glare of death right now. But if Connor unconsciously did this, it was because he wanted to be around Dawn. And the fact that she's getting them means whoever sends the visions agrees with him."

"Not many relationships get divine endorsement," Anya notes to Buffy's furor and exasperation.

"No offense, but that's the stupidest thing I've heard in, well, I don't know. At least since I came back to life."

"This is in no way a divine endorsement of their love," Giles argues. "It's more of a magical, or mystical endorsement. A reflection of internal sentiments, pure and simple. This was an accident. A fluke. Something that was entirely unintended."

"Tell that to Rory and Jesse," Dawn counters. "Go tell them their lives are unintended. This is a good thing. And Buffy, the fact that you'd let people die because you don't like me being with Connor. That's just, that's just so selfish." Dawn storms upstairs.

"This, this is insane. I can't believe she's acting like this," Buffy tells the others.

"Was that a threat?," Spike asks. "Keep me away from my hubby, and innocent people will die? I've heard it before, but it has a different ring when the person making it isn't evil." Buffy picks up the phone. GIles, Spike and Anya leave. Xander takes Willow's arm.

"What's going on?," Willow asks him.

"I think Buffy's calling Angel," Xander responds.

"Oh. Good idea." Willow stands up and Xander leads her upstairs. Everyone wants to give Buffy plenty room for this one. At the Hyperion, spirits are high this evening. The gang's telling Angel about their adventure.

"So it was a group of Ordock demons?," Angel asks. "Or were they the ones you interrogated at the bar?"

"Those were Neg-tao demons," Wesley responds. "The Neg-tao were working for the Ordock."

"Of course they were. Ordocks are smarter and stronger."

Gunn finishes the story. "The Ordocks were working for an empath."

"A Yelig demon named Ruk," Lorne interjects. "Nasty fellow. Horrible dresser."

"These Ordocks were tough suckers," Gunn explains. "The five of us, against three of them, in our condition — we'd win, but it wouldn't be pretty. Now Ruk's a big player. Little Gregory's dad owed a hundred large to a bookie who worked for him. That's why the boy got kidnapped. The fight doesn't start out so well, so Cordy decides we should negotiate."

"I wanted to know if they were happy with their employer," Cordy adds before Gunn picks it up again.

"Turns out they owe Ruk a bundle in funky-smelling demon money. So I had an idea: we kill Ruk, they bring us the boy. They're feeling it. Only problem is, they don't know where to find the head honcho. That's where Lorne came in."

"Us empaths can sense if another's nearby. There are three others in this town, and I guessed Ruky-boy was at the swankiest address. That's what I called him. He sold me insurance on Caritas. Refused to pay when it all went kablooey. Had the tamales to say I did it myself! Still, he did give me a small settlement that helped pay the rent. And we were still on good terms. Which allowed me to drive into his compound — with Wes and Gunn in the trunk."

"That part I'd like to forget," Gunn mentions.

"You?," Wes asks. "You weren't the one who had to spend fifteen minutes with you face pressed against the back seat and someone's kneecap in your back."

"It was five minutes. Stop being such babies," Lorne counters.

"I passed out," Wes complains.

"Only because you were hyperventilating," Gunn counters.

"You two think you had it rough," Fred tells them. "Try going there as Lorne's bunnies."

"Your what?," Angel asks Lorne suspiciously.

"They're exaggerating. It's not like they I made them wear revealing."

"Only because we didn't have time," Cordy responds. "If you had your way, we'd both be wearing that Vegas showgirl's outfit Fred put on, without the green paint."

"Excuse me? What showgirl's outfit?," an intrigued Wesley asks.

"How did you know about that?," Fred asks Cordy.

"I was still omniscient back then. Remember, I'm the one who got you out of that bad luck trap. Anyway, Lorne tried to pass us off as high-priced call girls who wanted to work for Ruk."

"How high-priced?," Angel inquires.

"Well, Lorne here wanted to pass us off as $500 dollars-a-night, which we both found to be completely insulting," Cordy explains. "But, thankfully, we didn't have to get that far in the negotiations."

"Cordy kicked him below the belt, I stuck a pen-knife through his palm, and Wes and Charles burst in and stabbed him about twenty times," Fred adds.

"The plan was to get away before the security guards caught us," Gunn recounts. "But once they saw their boss was dead, they were too busy looting his crib to go after the people who killed him."

"Glad to know things went smoothly," Angel remarks. "So what happened Gregory's dad and his debt?"

"Turns out the bookie owed Ruk even more than Greg's dad owed him. Slate's clean. Also, I think the bookie was afraid of us after we iced his boss. Didn't hurt that our new Ordock demon friends promised to rip him to shreds if we gave 'em the green light," Gunn replies.

"But is the father going to stop his gambling?," Angel asks.

"Maybe nearly losing his kid will straighten him out," Fred hopes.

"And if it doesn't, then I guess nothing will," Angel concludes. "Can someone get us some more beverages?"

"A cup of the red stuff?," Lorne suggests.

"Make it four. My appetite's beginning to come back."

"And a banana-vanilla shake for you?," Fred asks Connor.

"Banana-vanilla-strawberry," he answers. The phone rings. Lorne runs down to answer it.

"Okay. I'll go get him. Hold on for a wee bit," Lorne says before rushing back upstairs.

"Something wrong?," Angel asks.

"Buffy wants to talk to you. And she asked how Gregory was doing."

Angel winces. "Perfect."

"Just when you thought you couldn't be in any more pain," Cordy quips.

"Put her through." Lorne and everyone else go downstairs. Angel picks up the receiver. A few seconds later, he's on the phone with Buffy.

"Angel?"

"Hi Buffy," Angel says nervously. "Okay. Look. I didn't want this any more than you. You know that."

"You didn't want Dawn to get these visions, or you didn't want me to find out?"

"The first, of course. The second was up to Dawn. It wasn't my place. Her visions, her choice."

"The visions weren't her choice."

"And they weren't Connor's, if that's what you're thinking. That was the first thing I thought. But he had no way of knowing. We had to perform this elaborate spell just to transfer the visions from me to him. There was no way he could have suspected he could just will them to Dawn. And Connor was also upset when he found out. He knew the visions hurt Cordy, and he didn't want the same thing to happen to Dawn But she says they don't hurt her. Have you noticed anything?"

"No one has. She had one in our dining room in front of me and Giles, and we didn't pick up on it. So how long did you plan on waiting before telling me?"

"I know you're in the middle of some arduous, epic war against evil that's even more arduous than what you're used to."

"You thought you'd be distracting me?"

"I didn't want to upset you at the wrong time."

"Angel, there's no right time to upset me."

"But some are worse than others. Say you're about to go off and fight your toughest enemy yet. The fate of the world hangs in the balance. And right before you step out, I call with this bombshell."

"That's a risk you sometimes have to take. Right now, you could be about to fight some stoned demon, or whatever it was that blotted out the sun where you are."

"Stone demon, Buffy."

"Whatever. But then I'd never call. Because that sort of thing can happen to us on any night."

"Not tonight, I hope," Angel jokes.

"It's like I said the last time we talked. We can't keep secrets just because we think the other person can't deal. We're adults. We love each other. We don't need to play make believe. What we have is a lot stronger than that."

"So is there anything you want to come clean about? Because I think I've run out of bombshells."

"No more rugrats I should know about?," Buffy jokes.

"You seem to be taking this well."

"You're just lucky I burned out most of my anger yelling at Dawn."

"It's not her fault."

"That she used this vision thing as an excuse to cut class and get detention? That she didn't tell me where she was all afternoon?" Buffy's not buying the line about Dawn being at Kit's. And she begins to wonder if Dawn's been exaggerating the importance of her visions. "Did you save two kids last week because of one of my sister's visions?"

"You mean Rory and Jesse? Really great kids. They were attacked by two vampires in MacArthur park. They'd be dead or turned if Connor and I hadn't gotten there in time."

"And this Gregory kid?"

"Kidnapped by demons this afternoon. He's back with his parents, safe and sound."

"And you? She said she saved you?"

"I like to think I could have handled those four demons all by myself. But having Connor and everyone else there made things a whole lot easier."

"Huh. Interesting. So this is what Cordelia did for you? She saved lives on a regular basis? Cause that's just hard for me to believe."

"People change."

"Yeah. I think my lesbian mega-wicca best friend who almost destroyed the planet mentioned that to me. He's not evil, right?"

"Who?"

"Connor. To you, I mean. He's not still trying to think of sadistic ways to punish you for your past crimes?"

"We're getting along."

"Does that mean he loves you or that he's just given up on wanting you dead?"

"Somewhere in the middle. But closer to first one, I think."

"So there's a learning curve with him? He's finally starting to notice how great you are?"

"No offense Buffy, but why do you care?"

"I know what he did to you. The really rotten summer vacation."

"I remember you one sending me on one of those," Angel jokes.

"You didn't leave me with much choice," Buffy jokes back. "What can I say? I worry about you. And I know Connor's really good at pretending to be nice. So, in the back of my mind, I worry that it's all an act. Or, maybe it isn't. But then one day he snaps."

"I can worry about that. You just worry about saving the world."

"You know, for a moment there, I almost forgot about that," Buffy kids.

"It's always good to hear from you. Even when you're mad at me."

"Thanks. Remember the good old days when your problems and my problems were separate?"

"Yes. But I don't remember them being that good." Angel hangs up. Connor shakes his head.

"You can do better. You really can."

"Do I criticize the woman you love?"

"She's my girlfriend's sister!" Angel just lies there, dumbfounded by his son's ridiculous reasoning.

"I'm not even going to bother to respond to that. How bout we watch Indiana Jones?'"

"Okay. Who's gonna get it? It's all the way across the room." They look at each other. Angel dials the front desk.

"Hi Cordy. It's room 326 again. Could someone come up? And where are our drinks?"

Willow is lying down on her bed. Kennedy walks in. "Who is it?," Willow asks. Kennedy doesn't answer. Instead, she walks over to Willow and kisses her on the lips. "That eliminates Xander, Giles or Buffy. At least I hope it does." Kennedy lies down to Willow's right and puts her arms around her.

"How you holding up?"

"I'm starting to get used to it. Which is the scary part. What if I'm stuck like this forever?"

"Not gonna happen."

"Why? Because you want to believe in a happy fairy tale ending?"

"Because you're too strong not to beat this. And then you'll beat her."

"That pretty much confirms my fairy tail ending theory."

"Nina's a killer. But you're a miracle worker."

"No I'm not. Why would even-? . . . Okay, maybe once in a great while. But the rest of the time I'm just plain old Willow."

"Trust me, you look anything but plain."

"I'll have to take your word on that for now." Kennedy puts her left hand to Willow's face. She smiles and inches closer to where she thinks Kennedy is, putting her left hand on the back of Kennedy's neck.

"You'll find a reversal spell. I wish I could help find it, but you know that's not exactly my area of expertise. So, I guess all I can do to help is keep you company."

"I appreciate the company," Willow says before kissing Kennedy. "Sure beats sitting in the dark. Or, the light. I can't tell which." They kiss some more. Kennedy puts her left hand under Willow's shirt.

"There is one slight, tiny benefit from this awful tragedy," Kennedy tells Willow. "Doesn't, um, losing one of your senses heighten some of the others?" Kennedy slowly runs her right hand up Willow's left leg and licks her neck with her tongue ring. Willow smiles and quietly moans.

"Guess I'll have to," she stops talking to sigh happily, "test that one out for myself." Kennedy gets on top. Willow fumbles with the buttons on Kennedy's shirt. Then they hear a knock at the door.

"Don't worry, it's locked," Kennedy tells Willow as she undoes Willow's belt. There's more knocking.

"I'm resting!," Willow yells. Kennedy laughs as puts her left hand over Willow's mouth to keep her from making too much noise.

"Fine," Dawn yells from the hallway. "But Buffy wants Kennedy downstairs."

Kennedy sits up and groans in disappointment. Willow doesn't look too happy either. Kennedy buttons her shirt as she sits on the edge on the bed. "If this is just for another one of her inspirational speeches, I'm going to be very mad at Buffy." Willow sits up, feels around for Kennedy, finds her and puts her arms around her.

"You better not stay grumpy all night."

"I won't. Just as long as I don't have to stay away from you." She kisses Willow, gets up and leaves. Willow lies back in her bed, frustrated and annoyed. A few seconds later, Willow discovers, to her complete amazement, that she can see again. Willow sits up and looks around her room. She stands up and walks towards the windows. Then she sees something that stops her cold and causes her heart to race. Someone else is in the room, standing right in front of her. It's Tara.

NEXT: Tara talks to Willow about Kennedy. The Mayor talks to Faith about Lindsey. And Spike meets his father.


	40. Apocalypse Tara

"You look good," Tara tells Willow as she keeps her arms behind her back, shifts nervously and alternates between glancing at Willow and staring bashfully at the floor. "And happy. I guess, I guess she, umm, she makes you happy."

"You're not real. This isn't happening," Willow says with a mix of hyperventilating shock and clench-jawed outrage.

"I'm not? You think this is just a dream? Too bad I can't pinch you, prove you wrong," Tara responds with a tiny smile. "I know I'd like that. Maybe you would, too." She takes a few steps forward and walks through Willow, who is clearly shaken by the experience. "Did you feel that? Now, look me in the eye and tell me that wasn't real. Or, maybe, just look me in the eye. You haven't. Not yet."

"You're not Tara. You're not her. You're just, you're just a - "

"A substitute? Sorry. I'm me. What's left of me, anyway. Y-y-you can sense it, can't you?"

"How dare they. Using you. Making you, making you evil."

"Me? Evil? Who would believe that? But please, please, don't turn your back on me. I couldn't take it." Willow lies back in bed and pulls the blanket over her head. "Okay. Ignore me. Pretend I don't exist. I guess that's, I guess that's worked so far. For you." Eventually, Willow can't resist. She pulls the covers off her head and looked at Tara. "That's better. Thanks. It's been so long. Ever since . . . " Tara looks at the spot where she was shot. "You don't have to say anything. I understand. All this pressure. And fear. Used to be Buffy killed the big, scary monster and that was the end. It wasn't replaced by a bigger, scarier monster. I'm sure it's, it's tough to go through that alone. Though I didn't think you'd go for someone that butch. Guess she, gives you, something different than I did."

"Get out."

"And go where? Who else could I be with? Let's face it, Nina's not exactly my type. Though Nina, she can touch us. That's one of her special powers. Privileges. But she likes, uhh, someone else. Someone who's, well, played a big role in Buffy's life. And Dawn's. Who'd have thought it ran in the family? Both families. I guess no one saw that coming. I even wanted to. What I mean is, I'm still yours. Even if you're not mine anymore. But, I guess I can't compete with someone who's got a, uhh, a body. Especially one that knows how to throw a punch. She seems very, umm, physical. I just hope you two never got carried away, rolling around on the floor, on the, on the spot where I, well, fell. As painful as it is to think of you with another, it's even worse to think of that. Maybe I'm selfish, but I always hoped this would be, well, hallowed ground. At least for you."

"You're not fooling me."

"I get it. You'd rather feel her than see me. It's okay. I know you forgot about me the moment my heart stopped beating."

"How dare you. How dare you pretend to know anything about how I feel," Willow yells out as she stands up.

"I can't know what you felt. But I know what you did. I saw everything. And it hurt me. It broke my heart to know that I had turned you into a killer. That if you never met me, you never would have, you never could have, become what you became. Did you think that would make me proud? Did you think about me even once?"

"You were all I thought about." Tara's pushed enough buttons to lure Willow into the conversation.

"No. You were all you thought about. Your grief. Your rage. If you had thought of me for one moment, if you had considered what I would have wanted for even an instant, you would have stopped. I'm the woman who made you kill. The woman who made you attack your friends. The woman who made you want to destroy the world. That's my legacy. Not because of anything I did, but because of everything you did. That's all I am now. That, and the woman who made you able to, umm, make that new girl happy. When you die, you live on in the souls of the people who loved you, and in what you inspire them to do. Guess that doesn't say a whole lot in my case. Oh well. I'll still always love you. I can't help it. I know you feel the same way. You just have a funny way of showing it." Tara disappears. Willow goes blind again. Kennedy enters.

"Willow, what are you doing up?"

"Ugh, I was, umm, looking, or feeling, around, for something. Never mind. I was just, I guess I just didn't want to spend any more time alone in bed."

"You don't have to worry about that now." Kennedy locks the door and turns off the light. She leads Willow back to the bed and starts cuddling with her. Willow seems strangely nervous. When Kennedy tries to kiss her, Willow pushes Kennedy away. "What's wrong? What happened while I was gone? Was it Nina? Did she come in here? Or the First?"

"It's okay. I was, I had a panic attack. The fear I'll always be like this."

"You know that's not going to happen."

"And I thought of Tara," Willow adds, trying to give the lie a hint of truth. "When Glory messed with her mind. This reminded me of that."

"You told me about that. She got better. You made her better. The same thing's going to happen now."

"I know. I hope. But thinking about Tara reminded me of everything. She died in this room. Right in front of me. Kennedy, sweetie, you've been great. I don't know what I'd do without you. Especially now. But I'm just not, you know, in the mood right now. After all that."

"I understand. It's okay, Willow. I'm here for you, however you need me."

"Thanks. But right now I'd just like to rest."

Downstairs, Giles and Anya argue with Dawn about her (actually, Kit's father's) theory.

"That spell can only be used against witches who are evil or are using black magic," Giles argues against Dawn's suggestion.

"That's not true," Dawn replies. "It has nothing to do with being evil. It's about estrangement."

"Where did you read this?," Anya asks.

"I lied. After school, Kit and I went to this Magic Shop in Santa Barbara."

"You mean Merlin's'," Anya asks.

"Yeah."

"That's a good store. Very profitable. Makes a killing off the new age-y college students. But they do have nice selection of books in back. Arlen's someone who really knows her stuff."

"You two have met?," Giles asks.

"Yes. She mentioned how you came by three times before you worked up the nerve to talk to her. She was flattered by the attention."

"What attention? I was only paying attention to her prices and selection. I wanted to get a sense of the business."

"You liked Arlen?," Dawn asks with a smile. "She's pretty attractive. Though in a kind of Elvira way, and I didn't think that was what you went for."

"Well, it's not, thank you very much. No offense to Miss Estrin. What did she think of your hypothesis?"

"I, umm, I didn't ask her," Dawn stammers, worrying that her lie was becoming too elaborate. "I figured she'd ask too many questions."

"Then why did you tell Kit?," Giles asks.

"I needed a ride. And she's cool with this kinda stuff. Especially after everything that's happened around here. Plus, since Buffy saved her that one time, she felt like helping out with research was the least she could do to pay Buffy back."

"It's a rare spell," Anya explains. "If you're good, you don't use it because you don't want to hurt someone. But if you're bad, you want to use something a little more powerful. Something that would cause even more pain. I wouldn't rule it out. Let's face it, Rupert. It's better than anything we've come up with." Dawn smiles. She's never liked Anya, and Anya's never liked her, so she's pleasantly surprised by this show of support.

"That wouldn't be saying much," Giles drolly replies. "Before we come to any conclusions, I'd like to discuss the whole matter with Willow. See how she feels about our various suggestions. Right now, I think we all could use some rest." Dawn goes upstairs to her bedroom. Giles goes into the kitchen for some tea. Anya walks into the living room, where the Potentials are having a discussion.

RONA: Why was Buffy so mad?

AMANDA: I think it had something to do with Connor.

MADARI: And Dawn. She was the one Buffy kept yelling at.

FADILA: It has to be tough when your sister's first serious boyfriend is the son of your first serious boyfriend.

ARIELLA: Tough? It's nearly impossible. The generation gap alone.

RONA: I'm still surprised Connor went for her.

AMANDA: I know. She doesn't seem like his type. He has all those super powers, and she's so normal.

FADILA: Maybe that's why.

MADARI: Opposites attract?

AMANDA: Think about it. Connor's strange. He never went to school. His idea of a date isn't eating dinner and watching a movie. It's staking a vampire and killing a demon. Dawn's from a whole other world. The normalcy dimension.

RONA: You're right. That has to be the reason.

Anya has recently entered the room. Andrew sits near the Potentials, listening but not talking.

"Didn't you people get a briefing book?," Anya asks. "Andrew, I thought you were preparing one."

"I did. I put in everything I knew. Plus, some lovely color graphics I had put together at the print shop."

"So you don't know either."

"Know what?"

"Dawn's story."

"I know she was a key or something. What does that mean?"

"Okay kiddies. It's time I tell you all a little story."

Down in the basement, Faith sits on her cot and smokes a cigarette.

"A disgusting habit," Richard Wilkins tells her. "Bad breath. Yellow teeth. All that ash getting into peoples carpets. Not to mention that it can kill you." Faith looks up and sees him standing there. She backs up against the wall, momentarily spooked.

"Relax. I can't bite. Even if I could, you know I would never bite you." Faith stands up and throws a right hook that goes through his face.

"So that's what you are. Spike told me about this."

"I never liked him. Never trust a man who dies his hair. And he was far too selfish. Never one to follow orders. Not to mention the fact that he's deceitful, and will turn on the people who believe in him for the pettiest reasons. Of course, Buffy doesn't understand that. There's a lot about vampires that Buffy never wants to understand."

"You mean in general, or just the ones she's boinked?," Faith jokes.

"Now, now, young lady. Watch your language. There are children in this house."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't exactly call them innocent."

"How could they be, after months of living in Buffy's den of iniquity? If I had known what an immoral and licentious young woman she really was, maybe I would have handled her differently. Here I was, thinking Angel was the most corruptible. Gosh, was I ever off target. Don't worry. You would have always been first in in my heart. And I have to say I'm proud of my little lady. You've become the responsible Slayer. The one who isn't ashamed of the man she loves. And I love him, too! Lindsey's a wonderful fella. I only wish I had him on my team. Think of what I could have done with him as my Deputy Mayor. And think of the edifying impact he would have had on you. A guy like that only comes along once in a lifetime. Once in my lifetime!," Wilkins says before laughing. "Handsome. Hard-working. Intelligent. Multi-talented. Not to mention evil."

"Lindsey is not evil."

"Who are you trying to convince? We both know he was on our side. And what changed? Did he get a soul? Nope. Already had one. He simply got tired of losing. Like you did. There was no Road to Damascus moment in his life. He simply found an easier way to be successful. Once again, like you."

"Go to hell. Sorry. You already have."

"Now that wasn't very polite. After all I did for you."

"You mean turning me into a killer?"

"I'm afraid you're inverting the order of events."

"I never did it on purpose before we hooked up. You taught me to like it."

"I led you to water. You chose to drink. Don't blame me for your choices. You can't teach someone to feel that yummy, visceral thrill of the kill."

"Maybe. But you still used me. And you never loved me."

"Balderdash. Pardon my language, but you know that's a bald-faced lie. I loved you even more than my own daughter."

"So what? You probably ate her."

"No. I sacrificed Lillian. But I was talking about Martha. Who lived a long, full life and gave me three wonderful grandchildren. I've lost track of them over the years. Which is a real shame."

"What was I gonna do, even if you won? You'd eat your fill and take off, leaving me with what kind of life? Did you ever consider that? Or was I only a weapon? Someone who could take out your enemies, pave the way for your big day. You didn't give a damn about the day after, and you know it."

"I did what I could. I helped you when no one else would."

"You're wrong. Angel would."

"Only as a professional. You're a project to him. We both know which Slayer he really cares about."

"So what? Neither of us gets to sleep with him. But I'm the one who doesn't feel frustrated."

"Because of Lindsey. Great guy. I would have been proud to give my blessing to him, and cry at the wedding. You don't belong here. You belong with him."

"The First wants to kill me, too. Not just Buffy."

"And that makes you important. But not to any of these people. Buffy's the one who matters to them. You're an mercenary, sleeping in her basement. Buffy perishes, and these people will be inconsolable. But will anyone in this house even shed a tear if you die? You matter to me. And you matter to Lindsey. But you don't matter to Buffy and her minions. I'm sorry, Faith. I wish they could see your greatness. But Buffy has blinded them to it."

"Buffy and you got one thing in common. You both need sycophants."

"That's a big word. You study to get your equivalency degree in prison?"

"I don't need Scoobies. I don't need suck-ups. And if you don't know that, then I guess you don't know me as well as you think."

"You're fighter. A survivor. You don't want to die. If sacrificing you helps her cause, you think Buffy would wait one second before throwing you to the wolves? You deserve better, Faith." Wilkins disappears. Faith remains rattled. Upstairs, Andrew and the Potentials react to Anya's story.

"Why didn't anyone tell me this!?," Andrew exclaims. "I thought she was normal. I had no idea she was interesting. There are so many questions I could have asked her when I was making my film. Why didn't anyone tell me she was so interesting?"

Meanwhile, Spike sits on the porch, smoking and enjoying some peace and quiet. He sees a man walk towards the house. The man wears a red British army uniform with an elliptical Victorian-era white cap, several medals, and a black belt and sash. A silver scabbard containing a long, thin, curved saber hangs from the belt. The man has a thick, blonde mustache. "When was the last time you saw the light of day, mate?," Spike asks. He chuckles and tosses his lit cigarette at the man. It goes through his body. "Like I thought. One of their ghosties from memories past. Whose memories?"

"Yours."

"Sorry. Don't remember you."

"Fair enough. We never did meet. But I thought you could recognize your own father."

Spike stands up. "Bollocks."

The man removes his cap to show his wavy blonde hair. Spike walks down from the porch onto the walkway and looks into his blue eyes. "An inch taller. A few pounds heavier. But surely you can see the resemblance, son." He did look a lot like the man in the faded black-and-white photo Spike remembered seeing a very long time ago.

"Why would they send you? Like you ever did a bloody thing for me."

"I made you what you are, William. I made you a warrior. Like me. I know it was tough growing up without a father. William the Bastard.' You didn't have the nerve to discover your own strength. Quite ironic, how you had to die before you could become a man."

"So this is how it works? You wait till I make a name for myself, then you waltz in here to claim credit? You didn't have a bloody thing to do with any of it."

"You believe that because you don't know me."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Fair enough. But I've watched you, William. I took pride in your great achievements. I knew it wouldn't take you long to surpass that dirty Irish pig. I was disappointed that you never became a true leader of men. Not like your father. You always had to fight your battles alone. Or, as the case may be now, as a servant to others."

"And you never had to follow orders?"

"Technically, yes I did. But the colonel was happy no matter how I got the job done. So long as I won, he didn't care how I led my squadron. And I always won."

"The bleeding army won. You were just a tiny bloody part of it."

"You know better than that, son. You saw all my medals. The ones your mother polished every day. Tell me what she told you about me."

"The usual. That you were handsome and brave and died a hero. The sorts of things a mum will always tell her boy."

"Didn't she say that I struck fear in the hearts of the Cossacks?"

"Maybe. Dunno. Don't care. You're not real. And if you were, I'd treat you even worse."

"The Cossacks had a reputation for being the fiercest, most brutal cavalry in all of Europe. How brutal did I have to be to scare the likes of them? Did you ever consider that?"

"Is this going somewhere? Cuz I'm getting bored."

"You're not the first William the Bloody in our family." He pulls out his saber. It's red, coated in blood all the way down to the hilt. "I became a different man in the Crimea. A man your mother would not have recognized. Killing men brought me honor and glory. Perhaps a few surrendered before I put them to the sword, but in the heat of battle few notice such trifles. And then there was my shameful death. It must have pained your mother to learn the shameful details."

"What bloody details? She just said you died in battle."

"It was good of them to tell her that. I perished in a duel, son. Two days after the armistice. I certainly didn't expect to lose. After all, I had won three previous duels. But the war was over. I was heading home to a wife who loved me and a son I had never seen. And still I squandered it all on some petty squabble over . . . I can't even remember what it was over. Why would a man do such a thing? I think you understand why.

"Because you were a wanker and a fool."

"Because I was a fighter. And a fighter can never back down. Even when he has little to gain and everything to lose. You know that impulse. For more than a century, you've lived by it."

"Lucky for me, one of us is no longer so bloody pigheaded."

"Because of Buffy. That silly, simpering Yank who doesn't even love you. Who puts you second to that Neanderthal with the sloping forehead. How can you love someone who views you as nothing more than a tool? This is why I fought, William. Because there are things worse than losing. And your predicament is one of them. She owns you. She controls you. You are no longer a man. You are her slave. And a slave can only become free after he has killed his master. You know that, William. You know that you cannot be at peace until you have tasted her blood."

"Thanks for the pep talk, pops. Now sod off, old man."

He sticks his sword back in its scabbard and puts his cap back on. "Very well. I needn't convince you of something you already know to be a fact."

"You don't know the first bloody thing about me."

"No son. Just the last. And that is all that matters now." He turns, walks away and vanishes into the darkness.

After the scare from the Mayor, Faith took out the cell phone Lindsey gave her and dialed him up. "So how's my favorite lawyer?"

"The trial's going good. The jury seems receptive. We definitely have a chance."

"A chance? With you charming them everyday, I think ya got a helluva lot more than a chance. How many women on the jury?"

"Five. But it doesn't work that way, Faith. This is a murder trial."

"You're saying it doesn't help if they like you better than the other lawyer?"

"I guess it could. But only a little."

"So it could make the difference?"

"I hope it doesn't have to."

"Don't get me wrong. I do too. Anyway, not to sound like I don't care about your work, cause I do, but are you coming over this weekend?"

"Court gets out tomorrow at one. Ten in the morning your time. I should be able to take off a couple hours after that. Everything goes according to plan, I'll be spending tomorrow night with you."

"All right. What about Sunday?"

"I have to get back to work."

"Right. Lives at stake. Same story over here."

"That doesn't mean I don't wish I could stay longer."

"I get it. We both got jobs. Responsibilities. Omigod. Did I just say that? Damn, I'm gettin' old."

"No. You're just finally realizing how important you are."

In the early hours of Saturday morning, the demons run wild. Everywhere there is panic. Clem gets trampled by a hordes of larger demons. "Ow, ow!! Watch the claws." He gets up and tries to run away, only to collide with demons heading in the other direction. He dusts himself off and rushes for his crypt. Several demons are inside, looting it. "Whatever happened to brotherhood? You're acting like vampires. Show some class!" The demons laugh. "Okay. I was planning to ditch that couch anyway. And the fridge. Trust me, you won't be able to carry that very far. Hey!! Put down that television. Now, mister! Are you listening to me?" The demon has both hands under the set, so Clem is able to scratch his eyes. He pulls the television away. The demon grabs his face and hisses. He reaches for the set. Clem growls and bites his hand. He's never done that before. The demon leaves without his loot. Clem proceeds to pack what's left into his car. "I can't believe I did that. Like a mother protecting her young."

Before leaving town, Clem runs into someone's backyard. His t-shirt is torn and ripped open. "Stella!!!," he bellows. "STELLA!!!" Estella Santos gets out of bed. She rubs her eyes and looks at the clock. 3:47 a.m. "Stella!!!" She pulls up her shades and looks outside. "STELLA!!!" There's a wrinkly, bare-chested demon screaming her name.

"Tennessee Williams meets the Hellmouth," she jokes as she opens the window and peers outside.

"Stella?," Clem quietly and politely asks, returning to his usual meek self.

"Who wants to know?"

"It is I, Clement, in fulfillment of the ancient prophecy," he proudly declares, once again stepping out of character. Estella's eyes bug out.

"If this is a joke - "

"I'm not a joker, Stella. Okay, maybe I am. But not about this. Never about this. The day has come."

Stella pauses for about five seconds and takes a few deep breaths. Then she leans out of the window. "Thank you, Clement. I'll take it from here."

"You're a powerful woman, Stella. When this is over, can you get me DirecTV with TiVo? I don't think it's too much to ask." Estella shuts her window, closes her shades and turns on the light. "STELLA!!!," Clem yells out one more time. When he gets no reaction, he walks back to his car and zooms eastward, leaving Sunnydale behind forever. Stella paces back and forth.

"Okay . . . Okay. I can handle this. It's just my birthright. The task I've been preparing for my entire adult life. Just stay calm, get to work, and everything will be all right." She runs into the bathroom and throws up.

After showering, brushing her teeth and getting dressed, Estella Santos heads out. At 4:30, Buffy's doorbell starts ringing in rapid-fire, rat-tat-tat succession. Giles, who is sleeping on the floor in the living room near the Potentials, gets up and staggers into the foyer. "Coming. Keep your knickers on. Who the bloody hell could that be?" He turns on the porch light and looks through the peep-hole. "Stella?" Giles opens the door. She bursts in like she owns the place and starts turning on all the lights, rousing five Potentials as well as the very groggy Xander, Andrew and Anya.

"You have thirty minutes to get everyone up and out of here. Pack only what you need."

"I'm sorry. What do you think you're doing?"

"A huge favor. In a few hours, you won't be safe here. No go wake everyone else up. Until you do that, I don't have time to explain why."


	41. A Girlfriend With a Sacred Duty

The Potentials, Xander, Andrew and Anya look at Estella with their bleary, tired eyes. Naturally, they think she's nuts. Stella tries to explain. But it's difficult, even with an audience so inured to the incredible. "Town's about to be destroyed. I'm making sure you're not destroyed with it."

"Why don't you just let us go back to sleep and wait for Buffy to save it?," Andrew asks.

"It's not the sort of thing she can prevent."

"But why is it the sort of thing you can predict?," Xander wonders.

"Yes. That's a very good point," Anya adds. "Either you don't know what you're talking about and you're crazy. Or, you do know what you're talking about because you're the one destroying the town, which would make you evil. If it's the first, we kick you out and go back to sleep. If it's the second, we kill you. So which is it? Personally, I had no idea Giles went for either crazy or evil women. That's more Xander's thing."

"It's a long story. Going back about two hundred years. Just get dressed and grab your things."

"And don't look back, or we'll turn into a pillar of salt?," Ariella jokes.

"No one's getting punished for their wickedness," Stella responds.

"Why not?," Anya complains. "Right now, we could use some righteous wrath."

"It's more a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Someone may have already asked this, but why do you know so much?," Xander wonders.

"That would be my question," Buffy adds. She's come downstairs with Giles.

"Let's go sit down," Estella suggests. Giles and Buffy follow her into the living room. Giles sits to her right. Buffy sits on the opposite end of the table.

"Make it quick," Buffy tells her. "I'm not very patient at this hour."

"Good. Because I don't have much time. In 1805, my great-great-great-great-great Uncle Emiliano came here with his brother Carlos."

"Carlos would be your great-great-great, how ever many greats, grandfather?," Giles asks. He's still trying to wake up. Stella hopes her story will do the trick.

"Yes. Carlos came from Mexico with his bride Theresa. Emiliano had just returned from the Jesuit seminary in Rome, where he received his education. They were the first Europeans to settle in Sunnydale. Because of the official connections he had established in Europe, Emiliano was made Bishop of California. But he refused to set up a mission in Sunnydale. Instead, he went to the Indians like an old-fashioned missionary, instead of making them come to him. His criticisms of the mission system caused great controversy, and he chose to resign his position and become an itinerant priest without a parish."

"So your ancestors weren't the ones who did all those horrible things to the native peoples?," Buffy pointedly asks, remembering her Thanksgiving from three years back. Not wanting to waste time on history or theology, Estella continues with her story.

"In 1809, while fasting for Lent in a mud hut that happened to be located where the movie theater now is, Emiliano was visited in his dreams by an angel over the course of fourteen nights. Each night, the angel told him things he could not comprehend. And each day, he wrote down what he had heard the previous night. By the end of the visitation, he realized he had been given a series of prophecies. Over the next twelve years, Emiliano traveled the world, looking through Church archives, searching for information that could make sense of what he had been told. When he had finished, Emiliano wrote down the prophecies and his commentaries on them in this book." Giles and Buffy see a large book on the table with a black leather cover.

"I suspected that wasn't one of mine," Giles quips. "What does it say?"

"I don't know." Estella hands it to Giles. He tries to open it, but cannot. "Emiliano sealed the book shut. Then he told his brother about his experiences. Having spent nearly two decades on the Hellmouth, Carlos had no trouble believing his brother. Emiliano told Carlos that the book could only be opened by one of his female descendents after she had spoken with a demon prophet who went by the name Clement."

"Okay, this is all getting a bit too sanctified for my tastes," Buffy comments. Then she figures something out. "Did you say Clement? A demon named Clement? Clem!"

"Pale, with skin hanging down from everywhere?," Estella asks.

"Again, with the Clem's a prophet!?"

"What was that?," Xander asks, having entered the room along with Anya.

"I suppose it's natural he'd get to know the people he was destined to help."

"Clem's not the sort of demon who's destined for anything," Anya notes.

"All I knew was one day this town would be destroyed, and a demon named Clement would warn me the night before. Actually, I didn't know he'd warn me. Nothing was ever said about when it would be. But I should have known it was me when my brother had two sons and no daughters. The first daughter is the one who's on hold, so to speak, ready in case the day comes. She can't marry, or have kids, and she passes the responsibility on to her eldest brother's daughter. Me not having a niece should have been taken as a sign that I was the end of the line. I'm the last one who can open the book. It's sort of what I was born for. My, I don't know what you'd call it, my - "

"Sacred duty?," Giles asks. Buffy can tell he's totally swooning over the news.

"I guess so," Estella answers. "If you want to be literal about it."

"So you open that book, and it'll tell us what's going to happen?," Buffy asks.

"Prophecies are little more complicated than that," Giles explains. "They are in this case, right Stella?"

"How should I know? I haven't read the thing. Here's what I do know. At six am, the emergency sirens will go off."

"What emergency sirens?," Buffy asks.

"The ones we had installed when I became mayor. That was another part of the prophecy – it wouldn't come to pass until the good guys were in power."

"You mean as long as Wilkins was Mayor, this town was safe?," Buffy wonders. "And I helped destroy it by killing him?"

"I think he would have destroyed it on his own if you hadn't," Giles answers.

"At 6:05, I go on television, give a false but plausible reason for the evacuation and declare martial law. The prophecy specifies that the destruction will occur between sunrise and sunset. Sunrise is at 6:51. I hope to have the town evacuated by noon. Odds are that will be soon enough. The army's helping out. I notified their demon-fighting units about a month ago that something catastrophic could happen in late April or early May."

"That is the season for catastrophes around here," Buffy comments.

"They've been massing at the base just south of town. And they'll be joined by the regulars stationed there. A couple hundred soldiers who know what goes on in this town, and a couple thousand who don't but will do what they're told, even if it doesn't make sense to them. I need to have all of you in the bunker by 5:30. Once word gets out, things will be pretty hectic to say the least. It's best if you're already safely out of the way."

"Did you say bunker?," Xander asks.

"More of an underground house. Seven bedrooms. Two baths."

"Two baths?," Anya notes. "There's more than one bathroom? Why haven't we been living there all along?"

Stella laughs, then gets back to business. "The phones have been cut, and all the cell towers powered down on my orders. To pull this off, we need as little publicity as possible. So don't try getting in touch with anyone."

"Mayors have the power to forcibly expel people from their homes?," Anya notes with a slight tinge of envy. "I had no idea."

"Normally, no," Estella responds.

"Just like they don't have to power to command military personnel," Xander adds. "Ever."

"Two hundred years of painstakingly cultivated connections," Estella explains. "The hope is to have everything over and done with before too many people realize how many laws I've broken."

"Of course," Anya remarks. "Because this is the sort of thing that's only done by power-mad crazy people."

"Or by those given a responsibility the larger society cannot comprehend," Giles counters. He had no idea Stella had a mystical, hereditary destiny. It was like finding out your intelligent, beautiful girlfriend was also a kindred spirit. Or even, dare he think it, a soul mate. Dawn and Kennedy come downstairs.

"What's going on?," Dawn whines.

"Looks like you're not the only one around here who gets prophecies so she can help her boyfriend," Anya jokes.

"The town's going to be destroyed today," Giles explains, realizing how hard a thing this is to explain. "Stella is going to take us somewhere safe before that happens."

"You get visions?," Dawn asks Stella.

"No, she got Clem," Buffy answers. "She says Clem's a prophet, and he told her the town was gonna blow today. I don't want to get into how ridiculous it all is. Not at this hour. Just pack your things and suspend your disbelief."

"We're leaving town? Not again."

"No, we're going underground," Giles replies.

"For how long?"

"Doesn't matter," Stella remarks. "By the time the sun sets, this house will probably be gone. So take what you need."

"I don't understand."

"None of us do. You don't need to," Buffy counters. She's buying all this because she always had a sneaking suspicion the whole "from beneath you it devours" implied catastrophic destruction. "Just get ready. Has anyone told Spike?" She looks around, then heads downstairs.

"Sorry. No pets allowed," Stella tells Buffy, causing Giles and Xander to laugh. "Dogs won't do well underground."

"He's not an animal," Buffy shoots back before heading into the basement.

"He's a, he's a vampire," Giles explains haltingly. "With a soul."

"Okay. You mean that Spike. With a soul? Huh. That's getting to be a cliche around here. Who cursed him?"

"He cursed himself," Giles answers. "You know of Spike?"

"And, from that cliche remark, I take it you also know about Angel?," Xander infers.

"My brother Vince was his landlord. Until he lost his soul and skipped out on his lease."

"Trust me, that was the least of it," Xander darkly notes.

"Vince did get to keep the $5,000 deposit paid by Angel's sugar daddy."

"His what?," Giles asks.

"What's this about Angel having a sugar daddy?," Xander wonders.

"And isn't $5,000 excessive for a security deposit?," Anya inquires.

"Not when the tenant is a vampire. I didn't mean sugar daddy' in the normal sense. I hope not. Vince said he was this little nebbish straight out of Raymond Chandler. As for Spike, I guess getting a soul makes sense. He has always been Buffy's ally. At least ever since he came to Sunnydale."

"Not quite," Xander responds.

"After coming to town, he did expend a considerable amount of energy trying to kill her," Giles reports.

"I don't know the details. Just what was written in the old mayor's files. He little profiles done of various demons and people. I think they were written by the Deputy Mayor."

"Really. I had no idea the Mayor would be concerned about someone so inconsequential," Giles remarks.

"Spike caused chaos. And Richard seems to have feared that he would join forces with Buffy. The profile claims that Buffy is the archetypal bad girl – or, good girl, as the case may be – whom Spike was drawn to as a way of rebelling against his vampire mother figure. It also postulated the existence of a vampire father figure whom Spike had abandonment issues with, as well as the standard Oedipal competitiveness. The guess was that Spike was replaying events in his human life. But I think that's all pop psychology b.s., though it did make a fun read."

"Do you still have that?," Xander asks, hoping to enjoy a few laughs at Spike's expense.

"Yes. That would be a fun read," Giles adds. "Even if it is half hogwash. Father figure. Who could that possibly - " Giles suddenly no longer looks amused. "Never mind. I'll be packing up my books now." Everyone leaves to grab their stuff. Andrew picks up the television. Stella heads into the living room to prevent any panic.

"You won't be needing that," she tells Andrew.

"Easy for you to say. I think I know what I need."

"There's one in the bunker. And it's larger." Andrew puts down the set, which was getting heavy for him anyway.

"You mean it? You better not just be saying that. Because, if you're lying to me, you should know that I have the power to summon - "

"I'm not lying. By the way, who are you?"

"Andrew. Tucker's brother." Stella still shows no sign of recognition. "I summoned the flying monkeys that attacked the school play."

"Sorry. Not a big fan of the theater of the demonic," she quips. "Why are you here?"

"Because of my redemptive powers. And my knowledge of demons and demon languages."

"Fodder then. Or, if you're lucky, a sacrificial lamb."

"One can hope," Andrew jokes, trying to make light of Stella's insult. She walks into the kitchen, where some of the Potentials are grabbing whatever food they can.

"There's plenty of food at the bunker," she tells them.

"Who are you?," Rona asks the woman in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black blazer who's evicting Buffy from her own house. "Besides Giles's girlfriend." The Potentials find the idea of Giles having a love life to be icky, just as Buffy once did.

"She's the mayor," Amanda explains. "Hi Mayor Santos. Why are you kicking us out of this house in the middle of the night?"

"Because the righteous are always warned before their town is laid waste to by God," Fadila answers with tongue only slightly in cheek. "Except that only happens in holy books, and not in real life."

"In some holy books, it's not only the righteous. Everyone is given a chance to escape. That's what I think it says in the Koran." Giles had mentioned a few things about the various Potential Slayers, and Stella knew plenty of passages from various religious texts relating to warnings of divine destruction, on account of her own situation. "Surah seventeen. Al-Isra?"

"The Night Journey. I suppose." Fadila knew her Koran, though not by heart. Giles helps Willow down the stairs. The blindness makes her all the more confused about this sudden turn of events.

"What's happening?," she asks him. "Kennedy said something about the town going all kablooey?"

"Not yet. And we'll be fine."

"How does your girlfriend know about this? What's she hiding from us?"

"Nothing. Stella's merely the inheritor of an ancient family prophecy. A woman whose life's work is saving the people of Sunnydale."

"Are you getting off on this?"

"No. Certainly not. Please get your mind out of the gutter."

"You are! This is like your ultimate turn-on."

"Go wait with Xander," an annoyed Giles responds. "Kennedy's packing your things." Xander rushes over to Giles.

"Do I have time to go back to my place? That's where most of my stuff is."

"I'm afraid not. Now make sure you've collected all the weapons. We have to focus on what's vital." Faith and Spike stagger upstairs along with Buffy, who roused them from their slumber.

"The world better be ending, or else someone's gonna pay for getting me up this early," Faith vows.

"Not the world, just the town," Giles explains. "Pack your bag and put it in the van."

"If you ask me, there's something bloody suspicious about your girlfriend knowing about this," Spike tells Giles. Spike's hair is frizzier than normal, on account of him not yet having a chance to comb it.

"For now, I think you should give her the benefit of the doubt," Giles responds. "Heaven knows we've done that for you on more than one occasion."

"Sod off, Rupert." Spike goes into the kitchen, wets his hair under the sink faucet and combs it flat.

"The underground garage only has room for two of your cars," Estella announces.

"Not a problem," Xander says. "We'll just take mine and the van."

"Like bloody hell. What about mine?," Spike demands to know.

"It's practically totaled," Xander responds. "And what good to you is a car without a roof?"

"You were supposed to be bloody fixing that."

"And where the hell did you expect me to find those parts? One hood. Four windows. Two windshields. Designed to fit your particular car. It's not like those are just lying around in your local auto shop."

"What about my car?," Buffy asks.

"No offense, but mine's better," Xander responds.

"No it's not."

"It holds more people. And has more storage room. Which, right now, makes it better."

"I'm not just going to ditch my car," Buffy promises.

"One of your cars can be kept outside," Stella suggests. "I don't know how the town will be destroyed. I can imagine a scenario where it survives. Who knows? You may get lucky."

"Did you hear that, Xander?," Buffy asks. "Your gas guzzler could make it after all."

"Gas guzzler? And your car runs on what – solar power?"

"It gets better mileage than your gigantic sport utility vehicle. Which, by the way, you never used off-road."

"You're forgetting about when I ran that demon over in the creek bed last summer."

"My point is, whatever happens, I'm guessing it won't be easy to find a gas station. And, since my car will go longer before running out of gas, it's the one we should keep around."

"True. Assuming you filled it up recently. But if the roads are strewn with debris – as tends to happen in a disaster area – it might be hard for your little car and its four inch ground clearance to get around. Not to mention the fact that my truck would be far better for running over Bringers, Reapers and whatever other assorted bad guys the First throws our way."

"Xander's right," Giles concludes to Buffy's dismay. "I'm sorry, Buffy. Xander's vehicle will simply be more useful. And remember what Stella said: there's a chance your auto could survive."

"What a bloody injustice," Spike says. "I didn't even have time to push it off a cliff, give the thing a proper, dignified goodbye." At 5:10, everyone's ready to go. They've loaded their stuff in the van and the truck. Xander's also towing something cloaked in canvas on a trailer behind his truck. He says he won't say what it is until he's finished. Stella's the only one left in the house. Giles comes back in. She's standing in the living room, holding a dagger in her right hand and reciting something over-and-over to herself in Latin.

"We're ready to go," Giles reports. "Stella? What are you doing?"

"The spell. I'm about to do it. It involves chanting some stuff and breaking the seal with my blood."

"Blood magic? Have you done spells before?"

"Nope. First-timer. Don't worry. I've been practicing since I was eight, just in case. But I do need to be alone."

"Of course." Giles pauses. "Good luck. I'll be right outside if you need any assistance."

"Okay. Everything goes according to plan, I'll be joining you in a couple seconds." Giles leaves, feeling a little nervous. Though not as nervous as Stella. She practices her lines a few more times before sitting down and taking a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing." Stella winces as she slashes open her left palm. She squeezes her left fist, and the blood pours down onto the grooves in the cover. Once they are filled, she closes her eyes and recites about twenty words. A aqua light swirls around her, and she leans back and struggles with the force of the magic. Everyone can see the light through the window. After a few seconds, it disappears. Willow smiles and starts shivering.

"Whoa. Got a pretty big contact high off that one." Willow starts breathing quickly. It takes her a little while to relax. "You should know your girlfriend's working some pretty powerful white magic in there. Wow." Willow's breathing slows down, though she's still smiling. "Never felt anything like that before."

"This better not be getting sexy," Anya jokes. "Sexy for you, I understand. No, even from your side, it's still pretty – "

"Anya, that's enough," Giles says, cutting her off.

"I think we're in agreement on not wanting them not doing spells together."

"Don't be so childish."

"Childish? I'm almost 1,200! How could I be childish?"

After about a minute, Stella's regained enough composure to try to open the book. It opens. The writing's all there. The spell worked. Stella walks out the front door with the book in her right hand and her left hand wrapped and bandaged. She still looks a little wired. "Rupert, is that how all spells feel?"

"No. Definitely not," Willow responds. "You did some, you worked some powerful mojo there. Some pretty incredible stuff. Giles, are her eyes dilated?"

Stella looks at Rupert for an explanation of why Willow can't see her. "She doesn't have her contacts in," he fibs. "Ansd, yes Willow, her pupils are fully dilated. And then some."

"What? I have to appear on television in less than an hour. People will think I'm doped up or something."

"They should go back to normal by then."

"They better. Otherwise I'm going to have to spend the day in sunglasses. The soldiers will think I'm nursing a hangover."

"You'll be fine. Can I have a look at the book?"

"Sure. It's all yours. Won't do me any good." She hands it to him.

"I still don't get it," Dawn comments. "She says jump, and we just say how high, no questions asked?"

"Isn't that the way things work with you and Angel?," Spike jokes. He likes the idea of the younger Summers bossing old Angel around, though of course that's not quite how it works.

"So where is this bunker?," Xander asks Estella.

"On my brother's ranch on the east side of town. Follow me."

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?," Giles asks, playing the concerned boyfriend.

"Rupert, I'm fine. It feels like the spell's already starting to wear off. But boy – it was like pot and acid and ludes and shrooms all in one. Without the bad letdown. Of course I've never done those things. Most of them, anyway."

"No letdown?," Willow says to herself. "She really was working the good stuff. I've heard about spells like that, but I've never actually – it must be the hereditary link. Us muggles never get to do the really cool spells."

"Why do you have a video camera?," a concerned Stella asks Andrew.

"To preserve a record of these momentous events. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Maybe later. When the world's not about to end."

"Okay." He thinks about this. "Hold on! The world's always about to end. Someone somewhere's always trying to destroy it." Stella smiles as she walks to her car. Giles starts his van.

"Is your girlfriend a witch?," Madari asks him.

"No. Stella – I mean, Mayor Santos – is merely a conscientious public servant with a sacred duty to fulfill. A sacred duty that required her to perform one particular spell."

"Sacred duty' this. Sacred duty' that. Don't tell me you're not getting off on this," Anya replies. Ten minutes later, they arrive at the ranch and see nothing but grass and dirt.

"Where's the super-secret hideout?," Andrew asks.

"It's probably accessed through the basement of house," Xander guesses.

"No," Stella replies. "That would create an access problem of the house is destroyed and all the stuff inside it crashes down into the basement. We picked an entrance that couldn't be easily obstructed." Standing amidst acres of nothing, she presses a button on what looks like a garage door opener. A three foot-wide, six foot-long rectangular patch of grass hinges upwards, revealing a staircase. Andrew's blown away by the high-tech superhero secret lair aspect. Xander's impressed by how well the grass blended into its surroundings and concealed evidence of the entrance. "Follow me," she tells the impressed group. As she walks down the staircase, the corridor lights automatically turn on. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, ten feet of earth and rock are between the roof and the ground. Stella takes out a key card. "You'll each get one of these. Slide it through here to open the door." She does this, and the six inch-thick metal door slides to the right, opening a three foot-wide, seven foot-high entry way. Everyone walks in one-by-one. "This button on the wall opens the hatch on the surface. If you're all outside, make sure one of you has this," she says before handing the button she used a few seconds ago to Giles. The gang starts walking through the place. Everyone is pleasantly surprised with how spacious it is.

"Not bad," Spike answers with mock blase. "I've had better."

"Two metal boxes, ten feet high, twenty feet wide and seventy five feet long, placed side-by-side. Each of them rests on five three inch-thick steel coils sunk into the bedrock. This is the one door between sections. This button causes the double doors to slide open. Make sure you close these doors after walking through. Each half of the bunker has independent suspension, so to speak. In the case of a catastrophe, it's best if each box is sealed."

"Did your family build this on their own?," Giles asks. "The cost must have been staggering."

"Ten million dollars. Half from the state, half from the federal government. Disaster preparedness grants."

"You mean we're leaching off the nation's taxpayers?," Anya asks with a smile. "I love this country, with its free markets and corporate welfare."

"I suppose if anyone deserved pork barrel spending, it would be Buffy," Giles comments.

"Does this mean the world's finally giving me something back?," she wonders.

"Yes it does. The world's stepped up and given you a crypt," Spike responds. "And a pretty nice hole-in-the-ground at that." The Potentials run up to Buffy. They look happy.

"We have beds," Amanda reports.

"For each of us," Rona adds.

"We can go, like, two to a room," Fadila suggests. "It's like living in a real home. Not that your place wasn't. But to us – "

"It was like a sleepover," Amanda explains. "Cool for one night. But after a couple months, it starts to feel, you know - "

"Like you're living in squalor?," Anya asks.

"I call first dibs on the shower," Rona announces.

"Then I call first dibs on the other shower," Ariella responds. They run off to unpack and enjoy having to wait only half as long to use the bathroom.

"The electricity and water are run in underground from outside the town. They should survive whatever's coming."

Andrew's already got out the remote. He's flipping through the channels. "Will the cable survive?"

"It should. It's broadband digital, with an ethernet connection. But that part of the bandwidth won't be turned on until the town's gone. Same goes for the two phone lines. Until then you'll have to rely on your two hundred channels to keep up with what's going on in the world." Andrew's already blissfully under the spell of all these new choices. Estella looks at her watch. "That should do it."

"I'll walk you out?," Giles suggests.

"Sure. Thanks for understanding, Rupert."

"Stella, it was nothing. Just another day on the Hellmouth."

They walk outside. "I'll, uh, I'll be back once the town's evacuated. Provided there's enough time. God willing." She looks up, as if making a request.

"You said you could not marry. Does that also mean, well - ?"

"Rupert, I wasn't a nun," Stella jokes. "I just wasn't supposed to have children. Though I guess the same rules won't apply after today. Provided I'm still around. My job will be done. Which, I guess, is something you can never say, so I probably shouldn't have said it."

"Don't be ridiculous." The red glow of the sun can just be glimpsed rising in the east, only adding to the picturesque, romantic scene. Giles seizes the moment, takes Stella in his arms and kisses her passionately. After about thirty seconds, she pulls away and catches her breath.

"Wow," she says with a smile. "And I thought that spell was something special." Stella smiles at Giles, walks backs to her car and drives off. He stands there for a while, savoring the moment. Then he decides to head back inside to catch his girlfriend's big speech, then read the prophecies she unsealed.

Meanwhile, on a plateau to the south of town, the troops are massed with their vehicles, waiting for the order to move. "Can't say I didn't see it coming," Graham tells Riley.

"Somehow I didn't expect it to be so soon," he replies.

"Better now than later, when there's no one left in the corps who know their way around the place."

"The top brass hasn't said much," Sam comments to her husband.

"They never do."

"Yeah, but usually you get the idea that they know something they're not telling you. Am I the only one who thinks that this time they really don't have a clue?"

"They don't need one," Graham responds. "It's the daytime, meaning we shouldn't face much demon trouble. So this is a straight-up civilian evacuation. We can get the job done without knowing why we're doing it. We have before."

"We know why," Riley tells him.

"Yeah. The Hellmouth. But why today? Has you-know-who told you anything recently?"

"No. I haven't talked to Buffy in a year."

"I'm sure the Slayer can take care of herself," Sam predicts.

"She always could," Graham adds. "That's one house we won't have to worry about."

"Great," Riley sarcastically responds. "One down. Nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine to go. Has anyone here even done anything close to this mission?"

"We've all emptied a couple villages, couple hundred civilians. Thirty two thousand people may be fifty times as many people, but we have a hundred times the manpower," Graham confidently responds.

"And half the time," Riley notes. "Logistically, moving that many people out that fast is pretty daunting."

"Not to mention this is America and not some banana republic," Sam adds. "People here aren't used to getting pushed around by their own army."

"Look on the bright side," Graham concludes. "If there's one town in America you can get people to leave, no questions asked, it's gotta be this town."

NEXT: Kelly shows up in Sunnydale to pull rank on Riley, evacuate the college in record time, and tell Riley stories about how she helped disembowel Angel. Speaking of him, it won't be long before Angel and Connor get word of something apocalyptic going down in Sunnydale. Imagine Angel's horror when he can't get in touch with Buffy or any of her friends.


	42. The Chaos Before the Storm

Mayor Santos stands in the back of a jeep with Colonel Grove, a tall man in his mid-50's with thinning white hair. He's in charge of the forces carrying out the evacuation. They ride through the chaotic streets, where soldiers are trying to keep the bewildered and angry residents from starting a riot. For them, this is some sort of Orwellian nightmare. Electricity, water and phones cut; armed men telling them they have thirty minutes to pack up their possessions before leaving town. And all without the slightest bit of warning. They literally did wake up one morning to find themselves living in a police state.

"I think you made the right call with this sectoral plan," Grove tells Estella. "Six neighborhoods, one hour each neighborhood. It allows me to use half my force to keep the streets and highways clear. And the civilians from each sector can be grouped into an orderly exit procession. Traffic congestion was my biggest worry."

"You can thank Lieutenant Colonel Gage. He had some excellent suggestions regarding logistics. It helps that we're facing less resistance than I anticipated."

"Country's changed in the past few years. People are more frightened. And they're more willing to believe, for example, that there's a high risk in the next few days that terrorists will try try to capture and set off a cache of chemical weapons stored underground in their town since W-W-2. And that the quickest and safest way to move and dispose of the nerve agents is to temporarily evacuate the town. That was good one: scary, but not too far-fetched."

"Thank you, Colonel. A lot of folks have noticed the entry doors in the woods from your predecessor's little adventure three years back. They know something's down there. Which gives the warning credibility."

"So what are we really making them run from, Mayor?"

"Sorry Colonel. That information's classified," Estella replies with a smirk. Neither the Colonel nor the Lieutenant Colonel know about the Hellmouth. But the Brigadier General who runs the base does, and Stella's older brother Vincente, who served two years in Vietnam and spent three more on that base, happens to be long-time friends with the General, and was thus able to convince him to allow this highly unorthodox and grossly illegal deployment (the general could face court martial) because, well, he trusts Vince, and he knows weird things happen on the Hellmouth. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, things are calm and quiet this Saturday morning. Angel and Connor are downstairs in the lobby in wheelchairs.

"I can push it myself," Angel complains to Wesley.

"You have a broken arm, two broken hands and a separated shoulder," Wes replies. "What are you going to push it with?"

"You're lucky we even let you two outta bed," Fred explains.

"If you didn't, I would have walked out," Angel responds. "I'm already mostly healed."

"Me too," Connor concurs. "I can' just lie in bed day after day. It's driving me crazy."

"I thought you two we getting to like being waited on hand and foot?," Fred asks.

"I can take care of myself," Connor answers. "And I'm hungry. Hey Lorne! Where's my drink?" Wes, Fred and Gunn snicker at Connor's hypocrisy.

"Sounds like sick boy wants to have his cake and eat it too," Gunn jokes.

"Your drink?," Lorne asks. "It's nine in the morning! Oh. That kind of drink. Sorry, old bartender reflexes. Just one second." Lorne looks at the computer screen in the office and laughs. Cordy stands over his shoulder.

"See? What did I tell you?," she asks him.

"It's hilarious! Where did you get this?"

"My friend Sadie emailed it to me. She received it from another friend and sent in to me because it reminded her of the crazy things that happened at Sunnydale High. You think there are demons involved?"

"I don't know. Someone could have put a spell on her."

"Witchcraft?"

"That would be my guess."

"What's so funny?," Gunn asks.

"You guys gotta see this," Cordy tells them. Wes, Gunn and Fred go into the office. "Lorne, start it again from the beginning."

"Hey! What about us?," Angel complains. He and Connor are left stranded all alone in the lobby. Wes, Gunn and Fred start laughing.

"It's from a fancy prep school back east," Cordelia explains. "They had some big whoop-tee-do we've been around a long time' celebration that was on C-Span or MSNBC or one of those news channels nobody watches."

"She's cracking up cause she didn't get into Harvard?," Fred asks sarcastically. "Cry me a river."

"Don't rich people have real problems?," Gunn wonders.

"These things might not seem so important at our age, but when you're eighteen, and you have to live up to family traditions and expectations, such a blow really can feel like the end of the world," Wes explains.

"Projecting much?," Cordy asks him. "And this whole thing about being punished for losing her virginity. Trust me, this isn't the worst that can happen. Not even close."

"Was that a reference to Buffy and me?," Angel asks from outside the room. "Why are you talking about me behind my back?"

"This reminds me of the time everyone in town had their worst fears come true," Cordelia tells the others. "Especially the public humiliation. That could be what it was."

"What what was?," Wesley asks.

"It was when we were sophomores. Angel, you remember, don't you?"

"Remember what?"

"When all our worst fears came true for a day. What happened to you?"

"I don't remember that happening."

"Lucky you. Giles forgot how to read. I joined the Chess Club. Willow had some stage fright thingy. Xander came to class naked. And Buffy turned into a vampire."

"Buffy did what!!?," Angel exclaims.

"Someone bring the invalids in here," Cordy suggests. Gunn and Wes push them in.

"What's everyone looking at?," Connor wonders.

"What did you say about Buffy?," Angel demands to know.

"Lorne, move over," Cordy commands. "You've already seen it." Connor and Angel are pushed in front of the screen.

"Did you say Buffy turned into a – "

"Forget about Buffy," Connor interjects. "Doesn't the one on the left look familiar? And she sounds familiar, too."

Angel looks. "Oh my God. That's the girl we saved last week."

"The girl I saved," Connor responds.

"I killed one vampire, you killed the other. Don't be a glory hog. But that's her. That's Rory."

"And the plot thickens," Lorne adds.

"This girl was attacked by a vampire?," Gunn asks. "The one who's flaking out?"

"No," Angel responds. "The other one."

"The virgin?," Cordy wonders.

"What?," Angel asks back.

"The blonde says the brunette's still a virgin, which is why she got into Harvard. And I know people who've gone there, so I can't begin to tell you how ridiculous that is."

"She said she was going to Yale," Angel recalls.

"Well, apparently she also got into Harvard," Fred reports.

"Very smart girl," Angel says with a smile. "She had a thing for you, Connor. You remember."

"She was glad I saved her life."

"I think it was more than a damsel's gratitude. She was head-over-heels for you, son. I could see it in her eyes."

"She's not bad," Cordy comments. "Maybe a little waifish." Fred glares at her. "Not that that's always a bad thing. By the way, why was she here if she lives in, wherever on the other side of the country this place is."

"Connecticut," Angel answers. "She was here with her mother Lorelai. Who, by the way, had a thing for me."

"That doesn't answer my question," Cordelia responds. "In fact, it only raises more questions."

"She was here to see her ex-boyfriend," Connor explains.

"Which she?," Lorne asks.

"The girl. He moved here to be with the father he just met."

"Doesn't anyone have two parents anymore?," Fred wonders.

Angel looks at the screen. "It says April tenth. So this was a couple weeks before she came here. Strange coincidence, to say the least."

"What coincidence?," Connor asks. "Dawn had a vision about them. That was her first vision."

"Well, it doesn't look like this girl has any problems we can solve for her," Gunn concludes.

"It doesn't look like she has any problems at all," Cordy adds. "She has the money to go to prep school and pay for an Ivy League education. She only gets attacked ONCE by vampires in her whole entire life. Couldn't the Powers have told us to help someone who needed it more?"

"What was that you said about Buffy being a vampire?," Angel asks Cordy, switching topics.

"She was a vampire. We all lived our worst fears, and that was hers. She rose out of the ground all toothy and bumpy."

"You mean she just looked like a vampire."

"No. I think was one. I didn't see it. Xander and Willow told me about it later on. She was dead, she came back to life, and she told them she was hungry."

"She fed? Off of human blood?" This is getting extremely disturbing for Angel.

"No. But if she wanted to, Xander would have been a more-than-willing victim. Willow said he still wanted her, even when she was all yellow-eyed and demony. She killed the monster that was causing all the problems, and everything went back to normal. Including Buffy. It really wasn't that big of a deal." Of course, to Angel the idea of Buffy being a vampire, even for a few moments, was a big deal. "Were you out of town that day? Or did it only effect humans?"

"I don't know. When was this?"

"About two weeks before she died for real."

"I can't remember. Maybe I was out of town that day." Angel has trouble getting the haunting image of Buffy the Vampire out of his head.

"There are definitely some days when it's good to be out of Sunnydale," Cordy concludes.

Kelly, wearing her fatigues and with her hair pulled back in a ponytail underneath her cap, marches up to Lieutenant-Colonel Gage. "Major Kelly Campbell, reporting for duty, sir." She salutes. He salutes back.

"Major Campbell, you're four hours late."

"My apologies, sir. At 0:600, I was in Oklahoma."

"Get to work, Major. Join the Delta Group and relieve Captain Finn of his command."

"Sir, yes, sir," Kelly replies before saluting again. She smiles as she walks over to Colonel Grove. Kelly knows it will be fun to pull rank on Riley.

"You're late," the Colonel tells her. "I don't have time to hear why. Right now, we're moving five companies into the southeast quadrant."

"The college town?"

"Correct. It's separated from the rest of the town by Highway 101. They may not even know they're getting moved like the rest."

"Typical town-gown elitism. You said five companies? Colonel, I can do it with one."

"One hundred soldiers? There's 5,000 civilians, including 2,000 students."

"Trust me. I know how to handle them. I'm sure you need those other four companies around here."

"We certainly could use them. Major, you only have one hour."

"I won't need any longer."

"Very well. You're the one who's done this before. Don't let me down. I want updates every ten minutes. If the civilian's aren't moving in twenty, I send in those other companies. Not get a move on." Kelly rushes over to the column, which is about to head out. Riley stands on the roof of a humvee at the front of the column, getting everyone organized.

"Stand down, captain." Riley looks down and to his left. His jaw drops.

"Kelly?"

"That's Major Campbell to you, Captain Finn. Now stand down. That's an order." Riley comes down to the ground. "Tell the other four captains to report to Colonel Grove for reassignment."

"What? Kelly - I mean, Major - do you know what's going on? When did you get here?"

"That is not your concern. You need only concern yourself with following my orders. Have I made myself understood?" Kelly had not talked to him like this since boot camp. It was jarring and, well, let's face it, something of a turn-on. Riley Finn was one man who had no problem taking orders from women – especially pretty blonde women who could beat him up. He obeys and gives the order. The other captains shake their heads in befuddlement. He gives it again, and they leave. Then he orders the hundred remaining soldiers to step out of their vehicles and assemble before their new commanding officer. Graham appears very happy with change of command. So does Sam. She had been looking forward to meeting Kelly, who, as the highest ranking woman in the demon fighting unit, had always been something of a role model for her.

"At ease," Kelly tells them. "Permission to speak freely granted. We don't have time to waste on protocol. I want the members of each squad to divide themselves into teams of two. I will provide the specifics of your deployment and your tactics to your sargents while we move with all possible speed to the target sector. We will do this quick, light and right. Let's go." Riley naturally pairs up with his wife, Sam. That leaves Graham – and Kelly – alone and unpaired, which makes Graham happy. Kelly walks over to the three of them. "You're mine, Finn," she tells Riley before pulling him away from his wife. "Sam and Graham. It rhymes. That's a good sign." She walks towards the back of the column, then turns to look at the three soldiers, who just stand there in confusion. "Jaws off the ground and into the Bradley," she orders. The rush over to join her in the command center inside the vehicle that brings up the rear of the column to make sure no one slips out of formation and gets lost.

"So this is Sam," Kelly says to Riley. "No bad. Not bad at all." She looks at Sam. "I apologize for stealing your husband. You'll have him back in an hour."

"No sweat. Just bring him back in one piece, Kelly – I mean, Major Campbell."

"Call me Kelly," she responds while looking over maps of the area they're heading to.

"It's an honor, Kelly, to finally meet you. You've put in more time than any of us. I've heard some amazing stories about the things you've seen. What's the biggest evacuation you've ever done?"

"Bangladesh. Eighteen villages. Twelve thousand civilians. But it was a smaller job than it sounds. Only a 2.5 kilometer radius. Which is about as big an area as this little sliver of Sunnydale we're taking care of."

"How are we going to do this with a single company?," Riley demands to know.

"Forty percent college students. This isn't their home. They'll be easy to move."

"Not on a Saturday morning," Riley responds.

"I think I know how to make them very alert, very quickly. Are the support units bringing in the buses?"

"They should already be in place," Riley assures her. Kelly gets on the horn and announces which teams go where. She's assigning two soldiers to every dorm, all of which contain more than one hundred students. Riley thinks that's courting disaster. But it leaves nearly seventy soldiers to take care of the off-campus apartments and town houses. And Kelly promises to have the campus cleared in twenty minutes, giving the soldiers working there time to go and help out with the townies. Then Kelly sits back and pours herself a cup of coffee.

"Relax, Finney. This is gonna go down easy." She grimaces as she swallows. "Certainly a lot easier than this coffee." He's the only one who's worried. Sam's too awestruck by this woman who bosses everyone around. And Graham trusts her judgement, so his mind wanders for the time being to other matters.

"How was Los Angeles?," he asks her. "I know you arrived right around the time we were leaving."

"You mean when the city was dark?," Sam asks Graham. "You were there for that?"

"Made enough vampire dust to build a small pyramid. Never had such a target-rich turkey shoot."

"Who was in charge?"

"Lindsey MacDonald."

"I've heard of him. What's he like in person? Is he as cool as everyone says he is?"

"No. Cooler," Kelly responds. "After Graham's boys took out all the common vamps, I was brought in to take care of an especially cunning bloodsucker named Angelus."

"Angelus," Riley parrots. "Do you mean Angel?"

"Sure do. That's what he calls himself when he's evil."

"He went evil! With Buffy?"

"No. Definitely not with Buffy. It was spell or something that didn't involve a partner."

"Was Angelus the vampire who killed two of our men?," Graham asks.

"One and the same." Graham and Riley look at each other.

"He was Buffy's ex? That monster?" Suddenly, Riley and Graham see eye-to-eye on Angel. Also, Graham begins to wonder about Buffy.

"He's less monstrous with a soul," Kelly explains.

"I'm not so sure about that," Riley adds. "Maybe he's not a killer, but he's still a violent jerk."

"Then you'll be happy to know that Lindsey had him disemboweled." They do look happy. Especially Riley. "With the help of Faith, and Angel's friends – he's got some really cool friends."

"You mean Gunn, Fred and Wes?," Graham asks. "Ain't that the truth Ry, I have to tell you about those guys. And girl. The girl was pretty incredible."

"Why did this Lindsey guy want you for the mission?," Riley asks.

"Angel likes blondes. So I was the bait."

"The what?," Riley asks.

"The bait. And boy did he bite. Well, try to bite. I meet him in a club. Right away, he starts coming on really strong. Takes me outside. Promises to sire me - which is the funniest part. He was thinking long term! I act all helpless and drunk. Then I kick him in the groin and escape to a warehouse. He tracks me down, walks into the trap, and then everyone jumps him. Lindsey had these brass knuckles that made the nastiest wounds on Angel's face. Wes had a shotgun. Fred had a flail. Gunn had a hook – that's what did the disemboweling. And then Faith just pounded the crap out of him. I did some pounding, too. But not as much as Faith. Cause she's a Slayer."

"Hold on," Sam says. "I thought Buffy was the Slayer. Isn't there only supposed to be one?"

"Yes," Kelly responds. "But apparently there's been two for the last couple years."

"Faith's incredible," Graham tells Riley. "You really should meet her."

"I have," Riley says, looking uncomfortable.

"Yeah, but that was Buffy's body. It's not the same. Not even close in my book."

"What is he talking about?," Sam asks her husband.

"That spell I told you about that switched their bodies."

"You mean the whole Face-Off' thing?" That was with a Slayer? I thought the girl who did it was evil? And Slayers are good."

"Faith wasn't," Riley tells her.

"But she is now," Kelly adds.

"But not too good," Graham says with a smile. She's still got that bad girl attitude."

"Oh no," Riley responds. "You like her!"

"What's not to like?"

"The fact that she was evil."

"That's in the past. And most of the guys who've met 'em both agree with me that she's hotter than Buffy."

"Those guys being your soldier buddies? Now there's a really skewed sample."

"She's in Sunnydale," Kelly announces. "After Angel got his soul back, she was supposed to come here to help Buffy."

"Where is Buffy?," Riley asks Kelly, guessing that she knows more because of her higher rank.

"I heard the Slayers were already taken to a secure location."

"A secure location we can visit when this is over?," Graham asks.

"She's dating Lindsey. Just so you know."

"Oh." Graham looks crushed. "He is rich, and handsome, and he has that whole dark side in his past. I guess that makes it easy for her to relate to him."

"Lindsey was evil?," Sam asks.

"When Angel was good, Lindsey was evil, so he spent his time trying to hurt Angel," Kelly explains.

"They doesn't sound so evil," Riley jokes.

"Then he had a change of heart and went good. Sure enough, a little while later, Angel went bad. But it's not like it sounds. It wasn't vengeance. He could have killed Angel, but he didn't. He wanted to help him get good again. Even though Angel was trying to kill him, and me, and everyone else who wanted to bring him back."

"He risked his life to help a man he hates?," Riley asks himself. "That guy must have a lot of atoning to do."

"Did he hurt you?," Sam asks Kelly.

"Angel? Not really. Except for when he bit my hand. See? Scar's are still fresh. In fairness, I was stuffing a cross into his mouth at the time. So he got worse than he gave."

"A cross?," Graham asks with a smile. "In his mouth?"

"It was a classic. Smoke coming out his nose and ears. A big, cross-shaped burn mark on his tongue. He was trying to kill Willow before she could put his soul back in his body. Good thing I was nearby."

"Willow can do that?," Riley asks.

"And a lot more. A whole lot more. I think there have been one or two times when she was briefly the most powerful person on the planet.

"I thought she gave up magic?," Sam inquires.

"I don't know the whole story. She abused her power; quit; really, really abused her power; learned how to be responsible; and now she's a good witch all the time. Although the day I saw her she did a few things that Wesley considered beyond the pale. But it was a means to an end."

"Wesley's the English demon fighter with gadgets," Graham explains to Riley. "He's totally crazy. No caution. Just leaps right in. But Gunn and Fred are the same way."

"However, unlike them, he's my boyfriend."

Graham gulps. "Your, your boyfriend? The two of you?"

"Just kinda happened. You know how the heat of battle brings people together."

"Yeah. It makes sense," Graham rationalizes. "He's kind of a bad boy. Gritty, independent, rides a motorcycle. Girls for guys like that. Complicated brooding types with checkered pasts."

"Did you say brooding?," Riley asks with concern. He hasn't liked that word since meeting Angel.

"Well you're the same way, Ry. You went awol. You were a fugitive! Then there was the whole superman thing that nearly got you killed. Straight-arrows like me can't compete with that."

"Come on," Kelly says to Graham. "Stop trying to feel sorry for yourself. You're a stud."

"Yeah, you're a total hottie," Sam says, causing Riley some alarm. "If I wasn't with Ry."

"I don't need pity."

"We're serious," Kelly assures him. "You're a great catch."

"And I wasn't trying to sound sorry for myself. I was just making the point that women like complicated, edgy men with a little bit of a dark side."

"That's not true," Kelly responds. Then Sam and Kelly look at each other and realize Graham is on to something. "Well, not all women are like that."

It's been eight months since Spike and Angel left Scyra. In a large tent about 200 miles south and west of their homelands, Penelope and Hiero are having their wedding banquet. The tables are arranged in a U-shape, with the happy couple at the short end. Hiero wears Angel's golden crown, as well as the red robe and gold belt that are traditional for grooms his culture. Penelope wears a crown of fresh purple lilacs (extraordinarily difficult and expensive to obtain in the dead of winter in that region), a purple silk gown with gold embroidery, and an emerald gemstone hanging from a silver necklace. Along the side to their right is Penelope's mother, who is flanked by two expensively-dressed, important-looking men who vie for her attention. Across from them are Penelope's older brother Kreon and his wife Myrina, who were married seven months ago, barely six weeks after meeting. He wears Spike's silver diadem and she wears Spike's golden laurel crown. At the opposite end of the long tent from where Hiero and Penelope are seated, various musicians play lively dance music on flutes, strings and drums. Penelope's younger sister Andrea dances in a circle with her teenage female friends, while a large group of teenage boys dances nearby and tries to catch the girls' attention in general and Andrea's attention in particular. Meanwhile, their 12 year-old sister Atalanta runs around the tent, playing with the kids her age. The one person who doesn't look happy is Kreon.

"I still don't trust him," he tells Myrina about his former mortal enemy and current military rival Hiero.

"When will you trust him?"

"I dunno. In thirty years, if he's still with her."

"Kreon, just look at him. Hiero's crazy about your sister."

"Because he hasn't gotten what he wants yet." She hits him in the shoulder.

"Honey, don't be vulgar. Especially not tonight. Weddings are a beautiful thing."

"Ours sure was," Kreon says, managing a small smile. Then he looks over at his mother. "I can't stand these men. Following mom around like vultures."

"Vultures? They're the ones trying to buy her stuff."

"Mom's too proud ever to take their gifts."

"But she likes their attention. Let your mother have her moment in the sun."

"I'm glad she's happy. I guess I'm just so used to protecting her."

"Your mother or your sister?"

"All of them. After dad died, that was my job."

"And now they can look out for themselves. Well, except for Attie. But don't tell her that. She's always asking me when's Kreon gonna let me go on campaign? When's he gonna let me ride with Andrea?'"

"I thought you were teaching her art and writing and other good things that don't put her life in danger."

"She loves drawing, and she's good at math, but Attie's impatient with books."

"But she can read them?"

"First one in her family."

"Hey, I'm also learnin.'

"You still have a scribe read the treaties to you, right?"

"That's like fancy, official writing. In that funny script. Like I said, I'm learnin.' But I want Attie to have the chances we never had."

"And she wants to be like her big sisters. They're heroes. Everyone's always talking about the great things they do."

"That's cause they don't know what it's really like. War's not glamorous. They think it's like what Buffy does. But Buffy doesn't have to swim across rivers, climb over mountains and march knee-deep through swamps for thirty days before finally forcing the vampires to fight her. Attie deserves better than sleeping on the ground and worrying about ambushes. I want her to be like you: smart, creative, talented - "

"And with a wonderful husband?" Kreon smiles and kisses her. I knew I good get you to stop being so grumpy. To be fair, Attie is great at archery and horse riding. And she beats all the boys her age in wrestling."

"She wrestles with boys!?"

"She's already beaten all the girls."

"Perfect. Only twelve, and already she's got her share of Xanders." That's what they've started calling boys who are drawn to girls who can beat them up. "At least Andrea was fifteen before they started mobbing her. Look at all of them, trying to dance with her. And some of them look over twenty. I think I'll have to have a word with with a couple of those Angels." As a Spike devotee, Kreon uses that term to describe all young men who are attracted to younger girls.

"I think Andrea can take care of herself. She's got that dagger hanging from her belt, and those boys know how much she likes to use it."

"Of course they do. I think I've commanded some of them."

"I've missed you these last three months."

"I missed you too, love."

"At least Hiero and Penelope do the same work. We're not so lucky."

"Well, we got a week together while you're out here. And I'll be back home in two months. How is Zalma?"

"Busy. They're expanding the temple. Remember our wedding procession from steps of the temple down to the square?"

"I remember how beautiful you looked."

"You looked pretty good yourself. Made me feel like a real princess."

"Plenty of princesses in this world. Only one you." The two young lovers, who haven't seen much of each other since their wedding, start kissing. Kreon looks over at his sister and her new husband. "I don't think they'll miss us. Do you, my sweet?" That pet name is another Spike-ism Kreon adopted without concern for its original context.

"What happened to looking after your family?"

"I think they can look after themselves. Once again, you were right. Wait. Would skipping out right now be rude? You're the one who knows about things like that."

Myrina smiles and leans in to whisper into Kreon's right ear. "I think they'll understand. As for trying not to be rude, better your tent than this table."

Kreon likes the way she's thinking. He picks Myrina up. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him as they leave.

Riley and Kelly walk down the first floor hallway of a dorm building. "As someone who's been through fire drills on this campus, I don't think this will get everyone out in five minutes."

"Watch and learn," she replies before pulling the alarm. Both of them walk outside. Every alarm in every dorm on campus went off at the same time. In addition, the support troops drive around campus blaring sirens. "One alarm doesn't create panic. A few dozen – that's a different story. It's a warm May morning. Most of these buildings aren't air conditioned, so a lot of the students have their windows open."

"Which means they can hear everything around them. Surround-sound. Lets them know something really bad is happening."

"You've always been a quick study, Finney. Now get in character."

"Is this really necessary, or are you just having me do it for fun?"

"Both. Now be a good soldier. Insubordination will destroy our credibility." Riley groans in disapproval, puts on sunglasses and holds his M-16 across the front of his body. He is stone-faced and expressionless. Kelly jammed the two side exits shut so that everyone has no choice but to come out front, where she's waiting for them. Soldiers in jeeps and Humvees armed with mounted machine guns snake along the campus roads, adding to the sense that this is not a drill. Kelly looks over the half-dressed, frazzled and frightened students.

"Good morning. I am Major Kelly Campbell of the United States Army. Since 6:05 this morning, the town of Sunnydale has been in a state of emergency. For your own safety, you are being temporarily evacuated and taken to a secure location. From the moment I finish speaking, you will have exactly fifteen minutes to get dressed, pack what you can, and leave this campus. If you have a car, follow the signs to the staging area, then follow the escorts to safety. Otherwise, please get into one of the buses behind me. Anyone who violates these orders will be severely dealt with." She can tell that several dozen of the 150 or so people in front of her aren't taking her seriously. She nods. Nothing happens. She looks sternly at Riley and takes out her pistol. He sprays about fifty rounds into the windows above and behind the students. Several of them scream. The skeptics can see from all the shattered glass that he's not firing blanks.

"Fifteen minutes," Kelly reminds them. They look at Riley, listen to the sirens, catch sight of the military vehicles (they're aren't many, but they go in circles, giving the appearance of a larger presence), and rush back inside. Riley reaches up to take off his shades, but Kelly stops him. "Stay in character. I knew you'd make a good heavy." Kelly smiles and listens on her radio to reports about how things are going at the other dorms. Riley doesn't like the notion that he's convincing as a heartless soldier willing to mow down hundreds of American civilians for the slightest provocation. But Kelly knows that irrational times call for irrational threats.

Angel, who's sitting behind his desk, slams the phone down. Connor sits to his left at the side of the desk. On the other side of the room, Gunn, Fred, Wes and Lorne listen to the radio and watch the small television set they brought in.

"No answer," Angel announces with frustration and disappointment. "Phones are down. And her cell phone's not picking up."

"Same with Dawn's," Connor adds. Both of them look very concerned.

"What are they saying on the news?," Angel asks his friends.

"Same thing they were half an hour ago," Lorne answers. "People fleeing Sunnydale. Rumors that the army is booting them out. Nobody can get close enough to find out what's really going down."

"I know you're thinking apocalypse," Cordy says to Angel. "So let's assume that's what's happening. We know lots of people have made it out alive. And if there's one person in that town who'd survive something like that, it's Buffy. She's like a cockroach - in her ability to survive really awful things. So if the normals are fine, I'm sure Buffy's okay." Connor doesn't look happy. "And, of course, Dawn as well."

"How many Sunnydale apocalypses feature a sizeable military presence?," Wesley points out. "It doesn't fit."

"What about Kelly?," Gunn proposes.

"She's overseas," Wesley responds.

"You know that for sure?"

"Of course not. Kelly can't contact me while she's in the field."

"What if she ain't in the field? What if she's in Sunnyhell?"

"Then I would assume whatever she's involved in is classified."

"Still say she's worth a shot."

"Cordy's right. This isn't our problem," Angel tells his friends with less than complete conviction. "She can take care of herself. She's certainly tougher than any of us. Buffy can handle just about anything."

Kelly and a few other soldiers are in one of the student parking lots, making sure the students leave on time. She spots a man with wavy brown hair, soft blue eyes, a mustache and a goatee. He's comforting a frightened coed and putting her luggage in the trunk of his Audi. "Parker. No, that's my first name. So you're a sophomore. Me? I'm a grad student. History. What I love about history is that it's about ordinary people caught up in these huge events that seem to be beyond their control . . . "

Sam walks up to Kelly. "He's cute," she tells Kelly.

"Not cute enough to get away with those lame lines."

"Kind of looks like a poor woman's Jared Leto."

"You're right. There's definitely a resemblance."

"Why are we watching him?"

"I'm trying to decide if he's unfairly taking advantage of the situation."

Sam looks at Kelly and smiles. "You wanna bust him?"

"I like to think of it as performing a valuable public service."


	43. Exodus

"But I don't believe that," Parker tells the young woman as he gazes into her eyes. "You always have a choice. With everything you do."

"Not this time, pal," Kelly tells him as she slams his back against the trunk. The girl screams. Parker looks up at the woman holding him down. He's a little frightened, extremely outraged, and just a tiny bit turned on.

"Can I help you?," he meekly asks.

"I think you can." Kelly reaches her left hand into his right front pants pocket, pulls out his car keys and tosses them to the young woman. Then she lets go of Parker.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?," he demands to know.

"My job." Kelly looks at the young woman. "Follow the other cars that are leaving the parking lot. Don't worry, Miss. You're going to be fine."

"That's my car! You can't do that!" Kelly grabs Parker by his left ear and drags him away from the vehicle like a naughty child.

"The Mayor's declared martial law. I can do that. In fact, I can do a whole lot more than that." Parker winces as he rushes to keep up with Kelly and keep her from ripping his ear off. He feels humiliated. And that makes him feel even more furious.

"Stop!!" Kelly does this, and she lets go of his ear. He grabs it with his left hand. It still hurts. But at least she's listening to him. He smiles and tries to work the charm. "I think this is all one big misunderstanding. I don't know what you think you saw, but I was merely offering her a ride. How is that a crime?" He looks over his shoulder and sees her driving away, which upsets him. "Meredith, wait!," he yells. But when Parker tries to run after her, Kelly grabs Parker and holds him back.

"You haven't committed any crimes," Kelly informs Parker. "It's just a precaution. You'll get your keys back when you arrive at your destination in about thirty minutes."

"But until then, you think you need to protect her from me?"

Kelly looks Parker over. "Honestly, I'm positive you could never pose a threat to anyone," she dismissively replies. "But, you do have to leave this town like everyone else. And, seeing as you don't have a car, I suggest you get on the bus."

Parker realizes charm won't do the trick and just decides to get outraged and complain, since it's obvious he can't win. "This is insane! Your reasoning is downright Orwellian. You take my property; manhandle me for no reason. This is like some P.C. police state run amok." Parker looks around. "Take the bus? What bus?"

"The one right behind you," Sam tells him. She grabs Parker from behind and drags him over. Then she slams his back into the side of the bus. (Watching this would so turn Riley on.) Parker has his hands up. He gets a good look at Sam while he catches his breath. He can't figure out why these female soldiers have it in for him.

"Can someone please tell me what I've done to deserve this?"

"You're asking the wrong woman. I'm just following orders," Sam replies with a smile. She throws him into the bus's open door. He grabs his nose in pain. The driver looks down at him.

"You gettin' in or not?," he tersely asks. Parker looks around. The women who manhandled him are gone, as is his car. He walks of the steps and the driver closes the door. Parker looks down the aisle at his fellow passengers. Then he gazes at the floor and shakes his head. It's a bus transporting people from a nearby retirement home. "I can't move until you sit down," the driver informs Parker. He walks down the aisle. The only open seat is next to an elderly woman near the back. She quickly starts talking his ear off about how awful this forced evacuation is.

"Plenty of women for him to pick up on that bus," Sam jokes to Kelly as they walk away. Both of them laugh.

"People are fleeing for their lives, and he uses it as a chance to hit on some undergrad," Kelly replies.

"I'll save you if you let me hit on you," Sam rephrases it.

"Think I came down too hard on him?," Kelly wonders.

"Absolutely not. We have to be safe. Imagine the bad publicity if a young woman claims she was sexually harassed because of our evacuation. The press could twist the facts and say we forced her to ride with that jerk. I know there's only a tiny chance any of that would have happened. But why take that chance?"

"That was my view," Kelly approvingly responds. "Granted, I know better than just about anyone how sexy imminent danger can be. How it can bring two people together. But his pick-up lines were just sooo over-the-top. They could only ever work on women who feared for their lives."

"That's a lot of women in this town. At least from how Ry describes the place," Sam jokes. A few seconds later, Riley and Graham join up with the two women.

"All done?," Kelly asks them.

"Everyone's on their way," Riley replies.

Kelly looks at her watch. "With two minutes to spare."

"Does this mean I can finally get my husband back?," Sam asks Kelly.

"He's all yours."

"That's how I like him," Sam adds with a smile.

"What did I miss?," Riley asks her.

"Nothing much. Just Kel and me manhandling some heel who was trying to use the evac as a chance to pick up girls."

"Too bad we missed that," Graham comments.

"Now when you say manhandled?," Riley asks with a smile.

"Nothing too serious," Sam responds. "No punches. Fact, I think if we hit him, he would've started crying."

"A sleaze AND a wimp," Riley notes. "Graham, did we know anyone like that when we were here?"

"Enough to fill a dorm," he replies. Kelly and Sam never got his name, so Riley and Graham won't be able to find out it was Parker. Which is probably for the best, since learning that Buffy slept with him would lower Sam's and Kelly's opinions of her. "Where to now?," Graham asks Kelly.

"The colonel. He'll give us a neighborhood to scour. Make sure no one's been left behind."

"You really seem to know your way around Sunnydale," Riley observes. "Have you been here before?"

"Just for a couple hours. It was a couple nights after I helped disembowel Angelus. I stopped by to check the place out. Nearly killed Spike before he was able to convince me he had a soul."

"How nearly?," Riley asks. First she beats up Angel. Then Spike. Kelly's stories were just getting better and better.

"Couple hundredths of a second. But he was real cool about it. Guy can be a real gentleman when he wants to."

"Especially when he's hitting on you," Riley replies. "Tough, pretty blonde woman beating him up – that's the guy's number one turn-on."

"I thought it used to be your number one turn-on," Kelly replies with a sly grin. "Buffy met up with us, and we joined Giles in this high-speed car chase with gunfire and explosions. It was really cool. Especially when I helped the Potentials hold the line and make the demons retreat. Then I went back to Buffy's house for a bit. They got a real kick out of the idea that people can make a living fighting demons."

"Car chase? Guns? Things sure have changed since I was here," Riley notes. "And what are Potentials?" They get in their command center vehicle and head off.

"Potential Slayers. Buffy's protecting and training them. She's fighting something called the First Evil. That particular enemy may have something to do with this evacuation."

"It's always something in this town," Riley concludes. "How was Dawn? You know, Buffy's sister? I take it you met her at the house."

"She's good. Has a boyfriend. It seems to be real serious."

"Dawn has a boyfriend?," Riley asks himself. "Who is he?" Now, Kelly's story is about to take a turn that will definitely not be to Riley's liking.

The bunker is divided into two sections. The front one has a living room, dining room, kitchen and two bedrooms. The back one has five bedrooms and two bathrooms. At one end of the front section is a very large kitchen, twenty feet square. The family tradition was that after the town got destroyed they would have to shelter "dozens," so they designed the bunker accordingly. To the left of the kitchen is the dining room, which is twenty feet by ten feet. It had two five foot-wide circular tables, one on each side. To the left of the kitchen is the living room, which is twenty feet long and twenty five feet wide. On the right side of the room is a big-screen television and four couches. Two of the couches are against the wall, one on either side of the door to the dining room. One couch is directly in front of the television, and other is to the left of that couch, opposite the wall. To the left, in the back of the room, is another circular table, with a few chairs on the front left side of the room. To the left of the living room are Buffy's and Faith's bedrooms, each one twenty feet long and ten feet wide. For now, everyone's in the living room, except for Willow and Kennedy, who are in their bedroom in the back half of the bunker. Faith sits in a chair, worrying what will happen when Lindsey tries to come to town later that day. The Potentials, Andrew and Spike are watching the tele. Spike eventually gets frustrated with Andrew's selections and takes the remote from him. Andrew whines to Giles, who's far too busy reading the book of prophecies to care. Giles sits at the table in back with Dawn, Xander and Anya. Buffy stands nearby. It's nine in the morning. They've been there for three hours.

"How does it say everything ends?," Buffy wonders.

"I'm not sure," Giles answers.

"How can you not be sure?," Anya demands. "Just flip to the end. Read the last page."

"It's not that simple. The prophecies aren't in chronological order. To say nothing of the commentary. It's a puzzle."

"We can help you put it together," Dawn suggests.

"You can't read Latin."

"I'm learning. And I can read Spanish, which is what the commentaries are in."

"But there's only one text. Which means it can only be read by one person at a time."

"What have you read so far?," Buffy asks.

"That this town will be destroyed by earth, air, fire and water."

"How typically vague," Anya comments. "Always like a prophecy to hedge all bets."

"I've also read some descriptions of past events. Events that are in the past for us, but had yet to occur when this text was written."

"Nothing more worthless than predictions of old events," Buffy notes.

"Not necessarily," Giles dissents. "I think they are clues about what we will face. And lessons about how we can prevail." Giles scribbles a few more words down. He has several sheets of paper in front of him that summarize the different passages. He hopes this will help him figure out how they should be put together. "This is going to take some time."

"Lucky for you, that's the one thing we have right now," Anya mentions as she looks around the room. "I really feel like stepping out for a while."

"Anya, don't be ridiculous," Giles responds.

"I didn't say outside. Not around here, anyway. I think about two-and-a-half years have gone by in that alternate dimension Spike and Angel turned all topsy-turvy. You know, the one where they worship Buffy?"

"Thanks for reminding me why I forgot about that," a slightly annoyed Buffy replies.

"Anya, this is no time for games," Giles declares.

"Is it time for sitting around and doing nothing? Face it, I have time to kill."

"And you'd rather not do your killing around us?," Dawn jokes.

"I know the spell. I'll be back in an hour or two. You won't even miss me." Anya goes into the dining room and shuts the door. Buffy and Dawn look at each other for a few seconds, wondering who's going to say it.

"She's right about that last part," Buffy finally remarks. Xander knows they've never been close to Anya so he lets it all pass.

Faith walks over to them. "What's this about another dimension?"

Riley and Kelly go house-to-house, making sure they're empty. "Angel has a son!!," Riley shouts. "And he's dating Dawn? I don't even know where to begin feeling shocked."

"It's a big leap," Kelly concedes. "But not as big as first learning that vampires are real. Once you take that leap, just about anything can be credible."

"No. This is bigger. What a hypocrite. He comes to town to beat me up for sleeping with Buffy, and all the while he's going at it with this vampire."

"Seems to have been more of a one-night stand."

"And he abandoned her? When she was pregnant? Even if she's evil, that's low."

"He didn't know. She left town and only came back right before the delivery."

"If this boy came from something evil, what does that say about him?"

"He's good. At least when I met him he was."

"You're telling me that some times he's good, some times he's not? Like father, like son."

"He's human, Riley."

"But with vampire powers. What else did he get from mommy and daddy?"

"Connor's been a sweetheart ever since he hooked up with Dawn. He's saved a lot of people's lives. That one day I was there, he saved Lindsey and Wes and Gunn and Fred. Then I saved him with a blood transfusion. Of course, taking someone else's blood after being partially drained by a vampire did freak him out."

"Graham told me about Gunn and Fred. They sound pretty amazing."

"Yeah. They are."

"Does he look like Angel? Please don't tell me this Connor kid looks like Angel."

"He doesn't. Different hair. Different build. Different face. A more prominent chin, and a far less prominent forehead."

"I still don't get how this kid met Dawn. What was he doing in Sunnydale?

"He left LA when his dad became evil."

"Evil parents. Grew up in a demon world. This boy needs ten years with a good shrink before I'd let get within ten miles of a girl. Who knows what that kind of trauma can do to someone's head?"

"He did some crazy stuff. But that was before Dawn. Willow said that Connor's reverse cursed."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that perfect happiness makes him good."

"Perfect . . . " They'd been running in-and-out of buildings throughout the conversation. But this stops Riley cold. "He slept with Dawn! No. Please tell me no."

"Chill, Ry. It's not like you're her father."

"Oh my God. Oh my God. How could this happen? Dawn's only what – sixteen? How could Buffy let that happen? Especially with THIS boy!"

"She was busy fighting the super-evil."

"I don't believe this. Angel just keeps hurting Buffy."

"I'm pretty sure he was just as upset with what happened. It does make things a lot dicier between himself and Buffy."

"It's his fault! If he doesn't sleep with that vampire, the kid never gets born. If he doesn't go evil, the kid never comes to Sunnydale. It's completely his fault."

"Fine. I'll bite. It's Angel's fault this powerful demon fighter exists. And it's Angel's fault that this powerful demon fighter met Dawn, stopped sulking, and decided to finally help people full-time. So go ahead and blame Angel for making the world a better place."

"I thought you didn't like him. You joked about hurting him."

"When he was evil. And I liked it because I was putting Angel in his place. He thinks that just cause he's good-looking, he's irresistible to every woman he wants."

"You think he's handsome?"

"Handsome, but resistible."

"And he wanted you?"

"When he was evil. He denied it after. But, trust me, he did. Every guy needs to be humbled. Some of them on a regular basis. Otherwise, they get too full of themselves."

"Is that why you always ride me so hard?"

"Maybe," Kelly replies with a half-smile.

Riley laughs. Then he gets serious again. "You're just trying to take my mind off of this insanity. He's some superboy. They live apart. It can't work. He's just gonna hurt her. He'll leave her. And that'll leave Dawn feeling horrible."

"You wouldn't say that if you met him. Faith told me that Dawn's got Connor totally whipped. Not literally. And least I don't think so."

"Thanks for that last image. And here I was, thinking you couldn't possibly take me to a worse place mentally."

"It could be worse. Much, much worse. Have I told you about Cordelia?"

Cordy rushes back into the office. "Why, oh why do these Sunnydale people keep messing with my life?"

"What people?," Angel asks.

"Connor, there's a girl named Kit in the lobby. She says you two are friends."

"Kit's here!" Connor tries to stand up but only gets a few steps before putting his right hand on the desk to keep from collapsing. Cordy helps him back into his chair. "Does she know what's going on?"

"The army's kicked everyone out of town. And no, she hasn't heard from Dawn. But, now that she's homeless, she wants to stay here. With her father. Someone told them Angel lived in an empty hotel. And that someone also gave her the address."

"That was wrong?," Connor asks.

"Why would the government drive everyone out of town?," Angel wonders.

"I don't know," Cordy muses. "For their own safety?"

"I need to go speak to this girl's father."

"Angel, no," Cordy cautions.

"I'm not helpless." Angel stands up, takes two steps and falls forward. Lorne and Cordy catch him and put him back in his chair. "Okay, I am helpless. For the time being."

"Want me to wheel you out?," Cordy asks.

"No. I'd rather not let anyone else know I'm helpless. They can stay, of course. We help the homeless."

"We help the helpless."

"Which, in a way, they also are."

Meanwhile, Wes, Gunn and Fred nervously chat with Kit and her father.

"Where's Connor?," Kit wonders.

"Upstairs. Sleeping late," Fred responds. "I'll be sure to tell him you're here when he wakes up."

"What sort of work do you do for Connor's father?," Kit's dad wonders.

"Well, you see, that's a very interesting question," Wesley haltingly responds.

"Nice weapons case." He walks over to it.

"Yes. Angel's a collector of antique weaponry," Wes explains.

"They're only for decoration," Gunn adds.

"They don't look very antique," the father responds. "And a few of them do look a little used." He shrugs and walks away. Cordy comes back out of the office.

"You can stay," she informs them. "I'll take you to your room in a moment. Just as soon as I get the key." She rushes back into the office. "Angel. Where are the keys?," she whispers.

"I think I've figured it out," Kit's father announces. "You three work for the detective agency. And she runs the hotel."

"You're right," Gunn says we a sigh of relief. "You got us figured out all right." He hopes that will do it for the prying questions. Cordy rushes into the area behind the counter, has some trouble unlocking the room behind it, since they've never used it, gets in and grabs a key. She comes out, then realizes she didn't look to check what room number it was. She rushes back in, then comes out to take their new guests upstairs.

"Room 412. Here. I'll help you with your bags."

"That's okay," Kit responds. She looks behind the counter. "That's strange. You don't have any machines for running credit cards. Or a sign-in book. Don't hotels usually have stuff like that?" Kit and her father know more than they're letting on, and they're having fun making Cordy and company feel nervous. While they're waiting for the elevator, Elijah comes in with his mother and stepfather. "Eli!," Kit calls out. She runs over and hugs her boyfriend.

"You beat us here," he notices. "Hey guys," he says to Cordy, Fred, Wes and Gunn. They look at their five new guests. Then they look at each other and worry that this could just be the tip of the iceberg.

Giles gently knocks on Willow's door and politely asks Kennedy if he can speak with Willow alone. Kennedy kisses Willow goodbye and heads to the living room to hang out with the other Potentials. Willow sits on the bed. Giles sits on a chair near a very spare desk.

"Tell me. How ugly is the room?," Willow kids. "What color's the wallpaper?"

"No wallpaper. They're painted white. There's a nice red rug on the floor. It's not bad. I'm sure you'll be able to decide for yourself in no time."

"You got a lead on what's ailing me?"

"I'm not sure. Dawn has an idea. I don't agree with it. But I'd be remiss not to tell you."

"How bad is it? You sound just a little more than a little bit skittish."

"There's a spell which makes the victim blind to the world as they are to their soul."

"That's nuts. I'm not evil. Dawny knows that. Unless she's really into holding grudges for things I said that, let's face it, everyone else was already thinking."

"It can also be used against a witch who is out of touch with her true power center. Even for only an instant."

"You mean the true source of magic? Gaea and everything being connected and all that jazz?"

"It could mean that."

"I did those meditation exercises in England last summer to help me get in touch with my power center. The ones the women from the coven taught me. Could that fix everything?"

"Possibly. Which is why I brought it up. It's certainly worth a try."

"By now, anything is. And I'll be sure to give it one. Once the badness has its big blowout. The earth's not in a very nurturing mood right now."


	44. Love and Death in Two Worlds

Hiero walks back to his tent and looks inside, expecting to see Penelope. She's not there. And she's not with her own unit. Hiero's a little confused. He walks for a few minutes but still can't spot her, even though the camp covers less than ten acres. Hiero stops and thinks. After a few seconds, Penelope comes out of nowhere and pounces on Hiero. He never saw her playful ambush coming. She kisses him and smiles. "Remember our first kiss?," she asks her husband, whose heart is still racing — mostly from surprise.

"It was just like this. Except the ground wasn't muddy. Maybe you shouldn't do this when I'm dressed for battle."

"Quit complaining. Your cape will cover it up." She kisses him again, and he wraps his arms around her and savors the moment. Penelope stands and helps Hiero up, since it's somewhat difficult for him on account of his heavy armor. Penelope takes his hand and they head off to get their weapons.

It is a cold January morning in Scyra, and newlyweds Penelope and Hiero are with their small expeditionary force three hundred miles from home. Frost is on the ground, and the soldiers can see their own breath. They warm their numb fingers over camp fires so they will be able to work their weapons in the upcoming battle. Penelope, Hiero and Andrea step out of their camp, which is two hundred yards from a stone tower atop a small hill. The square tower is seventy feet wide, one hundred feet hight, and has five stories, not counting the ground level. Fifty yards away from the tower, around the base of the hill, is a ditch that is twenty feet wide and ten feet deep. The walls of the tower are ten feet thick.

Penelope wears a bronze helmet and bronze scale armor over her chest. In her left hand is a round wooden shield two feet in circumference that is covered in white hide. On the center of the shield are painted two green stakes that cross diagonally, their points facing downward. A red border three inches thick is painted along the rim of the shield. In her right hand is a six foot-long spear, and a two foot-long sword hands from the right side of her belt. Protecting her shins are bronze greaves caked in mud from previous battles. The tall green horsehair plum on top of Penelope's helmet is the only visible sign of her rank. Andrea wears no armor, and doesn't even wear a helmet. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a pony tail. A round iron shield eighteen inches in diameter hangs from the left side of her belt. Jutting out from the center of the shield is a three inch-long steel spike, making it both a defensive and an offensive weapon. Hanging from the right side of her belt is an eight inch-long, two inch-wide single-bladed dagger. Unlike just about everybody else, she wears only a single short tunic, scorning the cold just as much as she's scorning the enemy's weapons by going into battle so lightly-equipped. Hiero wears a gleaming bronze helmet with a blue crest, a gleaming heavy bronze corselet on his chest, and gleaming greaves on his shins. He wears his trademark black leather cape, which — like his attention to looking spectacular in battle — was inspired by Angel. In his left hand is a heavy, three foot-wide wooden shield, its front coated in bronze. In his right hand is an eight foot-long spear, and on the right side of his belt is a two foot-long sword. Penelope reviews the situation.

"Two hundred soldiers in there, trying to hold off a thousand. We've given them the chance to leave with their weapons and their lives. But they won't."

"The tower was designed to hold off a force twice our size," Hiero points out.

"But not even close to half out quality," Andrea adds. "They know what we did to the first three forts we've faced in their kingdom. You ask me, if they're too pigheaded to give up and go home, they're too bloody stupid to live." Along with Kreon, Andrea is the most open emulator of Spike. Penelope sees the archers arming themselves and rushes over to their commander.

"No incendiary arrows." He shakes his head, but passes on the order. Penelope heads back to her husband and her sister. Andrea, who's casually sharpening her dagger with a small stone, agrees with the archers' commander.

"Everything inside those walls is made of wood. Burning it up makes our job a lot easier."

"We need the stronghold to store supplies. We'll never be able to take their capital come Spring if we don't have secure bases well inside enemy territory." Hiero places down his shield and puts his left arm around Penelope's shoulders.

"It's been twenty four days since we promised ourselves to one another."

"I know, Hiero. But I have a feeling about this place."

"What about the last three?," Andrea asks.

"We burned too much of the last one. And the first two were too crude for the occasion."

"Just like your tent wasn't quite right. Sis, I'm sorry, but we're all getting sick of the waiting. It's bad enough that your husband worships Angel. You don't have turn him into Angel by keeping him frustrated."

"It's a sacred, special moment. I'm not going to have it on the muddy ground in some camp or on a dirty floor covered in hay and blood and animal bones. You'll understand when you find someone to love."

"You seem to mind more than I do," Hiero tells Andrea. She rolls her eyes and gives him a "yeah, right" expression. "We're going to spend the rest of our lives together. What's a few more days?"

"You're just saying that because my sister would kick your ass if you didn't. And I respect that about you. But what I don't get is why you don't go up to one of the big fancy palaces we pass by and tell the owner to get lost for a week."

"Because that would be wrong," Hiero tells her. Andrea groans mightily.

"We're invading their country! That's okay, but borrowing some guy's place is somehow wrong?"

"There are rules to war."

"I'm not saying we kill the bloke. Or even destroy his property."

"It serves no tactical purpose, and only makes them more eager to resist." Hiero looks at Penelope. "But darling, I do feel guilty taking a stronghold for personal reasons."

"We're taking it because it serves a tactical purpose," Andrea fires back. "And the troops could use a week to rest up and dry off."

"She's right," Penelope adds. "We have to take all these places anyway."

"Making yourself feel guilty even when you've done nothing to feel guilty about," Andrea says to Hiero. "You really do wanna be like Angel. Except you ain't done the crimes. Let's hope my sister finally makes an actual man outta you."

"Good luck today," Hiero tells Andrea, trying to respond to her digs with magnanimity. Matching insult for insult only makes his wife unhappy. The charm offensive works. She laughs and hits his left shoulder with her right fist.

"You too. Cause we're fighting on the same side. Not cause I care about you or nothin'." Hiero kisses Penelope, picks up his shield and joins his men on the other side of the fort. The three hundred archers (including one hundred of Penelope's women) and one hundred slingers spread out and approach the tower from all four sides. They move across the trench at points where the ditch has been filled in with earth and open fire from just inside fifty yards from the enemy. They are protected from the enemy's arrows by two hundred infantry and their large shields, including one hundred of Hiero's men. On one side, a hundred mercenaries attack one gate, while on the other side one hundred more mercenaries attack the second gate. Protected from arrows by an overhead shed, fifty men push the battering ram, while fifty others hurl spears at the men in the tower who try to pour boiling tar and drop heavy rocks onto the ram. Behind the archers on one side, Hiero waits with a hundred men for the doors to be breached. Penelope waits on the other side with a hundred women. The superior fire power coming at them from all sides overwhelms the enemy's one hundred archers.

Soon, the ram on Hiero's side breaks through the door. He storms in with his heavy infantry in close order. They push the one hundred heavily-armed ground-level defenders back, but the defenders quickly regroup and manage to hold their ground. Archers rush down the staircase and shoot arrows down onto Hiero's men. Those who aren't in the front rank put their shields over their heads. For the time being, Those in the front are well-protected by their armor from mortal wounds. But Hiero knows they can't hold out against the two-pronged attack for long. Ten seconds after the archers began to fire, and a minute after the front door was broken down, the back door is breached. Andrea and Penelope rush in, and the rest of the women follow close behind their leaders, all of them carrying the same round shields with the stake motif that Penelope carries. The women in back hurl spears and axes at the archers, killing several, injuring about a dozen and forcing the rest to retreat. The rear ranks of the enemy heavy infantry — those not engaged with Hiero's men — turn to face the much lighter-armed women. They see Andrea rushing towards them with her tiny shield, puny dagger and not so much as a helmet. She looks like an easy kill to men with long spears, large shields and chain mail. Andrea sees their confident smiles, and she smiles back. These men have no idea what they're in for.

The first man thrusts his spear for her heart. She deflects it with her shield, lunges at him and puts her knife through his carotid artery before he can raise his shield to defend himself. A second man stabs his spear for her face. Andrea ducks and pushes her shield into his, binding the two shields together with her spike. Having fixed his shield in place, she moves her right arm around it and stabs up for his groin, finding a gap in his armor and piercing the inside of his upper right thigh, severing a major artery. He cries out in pain and falls to his knees. Andrea rips her shield free and rams the spike right between his eyes, killing him. She knocks a third attacker on his back with a right kick to his shield. Andrea dodges a fourth attacker and pushes him in the back back, knocking him into the stairs. Then she quickly and forcefully reaches around his neck and slits his throat. The mail hood protected the back of his neck and the top of his head, but left his throat exposed. A fifth attacker comes at her from behind. Penelope spins and kicks him in the chest with a left roundhouse kick, knocking him backwards. Penelope, who's just offed another enemy, steps up and drives a spear through this guy's left eye. It's no wonder that they've started comparing fifteen year-old Andrea to another blonde female warrior. Exhilarated by Andrea's heroic example, the girls — who at first were afraid to attack the heavily-armed men — scream out their battle cry, which echoes against the stone walls, further terrifying the enemy. Led by Penelope, they charge en masse. The defenders are caught between two fires.

A sixth attacker comes at Andrea swinging a three foot-long two-handed sword. She backs up against the side wall. To her left are her girls. To her right are Hiero's men. And in front of her is the enemy, desperately trying to fight both of them off. The man swings for her neck, but Andrea puts up her shield and blocks it. He stabs for her stomach, but she dodges to the right and slashes his left forearm with her dagger. The man tries to back up, but with so many warriors in such a tiny space, he doesn't have the room to properly wield his weapon. He swings his sword for her legs. She sweeps her shield in her left hand down to block this attack, and stabs the dagger in her right hand up towards his unprotected neck. The fighter arches his back, moves his neck out of the way and swings for her neck. Andrea doesn't have time to raise her shield, but she ducks in the nick of time. The sword did shear off a couple of her hairs. Andrea can tell this guy's good. She stabs up for his neck yet again. With his right hand, he swings his sword for her outstretched right arm. She puts up her shield and blocks it. But he quickly pulls out a dagger in his left hand and uses it blocks her dagger. Strong, smart, and quick. Much quicker than just about any man she's ever fought. "You were worthy," Andrea says before sweeping his legs out with her right foot. He falls on his back. Nearby fighters trample on his outstretched sword. Andrea gets on top of him and shoves her dagger up through his chin, through his mouth and into his brain. She stays on the ground for a few seconds to recover for this exhausting flurry of fights. Kneeling over her fourth kill, she pulls back his hood in order to get a better look at his face and hair. He's not a bad-looking chap: six feet tall, muscular, a strong, handsome face and wavy brown hair. She kisses his forehead, which is something Andrea likes to do to especially brave opponents as a sign of respect.

The enemy is too busy getting surrounded and cut to pieces to bother with Andrea. Those who can escape up the stairs. A few of the more gallant warriors stop and try to cut the staircase with their swords to prevent a pursuit. Hiero leads about twenty men to the stairs. They stab at the enemy with their spears. Penelope leads a similar-sized party of women forward and they hurl their javelins and axes. The defenders flee to the second floor. Hiero and Penelope lead their forces up to the first floor, receiving swift surrenders from those who remain there. On the ground level, the fifty remaining defenders throw down their arms. Andrea calls off the attack and walks towards the prisoners, stepping over the bodies of the dead to get them. About thirty defenders lie dead on the ground, covering most of the floor. The rest is drenched in their blood. Andrea's dagger is red, and her tunic and shield are splattered in blood. The enemy is immediately terrified of this vicious young warrior. "You coulda done this before the battle," she tells them. "Doesn't resisting us feel like such a waste now?" Andrea picks out nine women and ten men to accompany her upstairs to back up the vanguard. She orders the rest of the men and women to take the prisoners outside. In accordance with their normal procedure, the enemy is stripped of his weapons and armor and allowed to go home. When they have a surplus of supplies, they even give the defeated men some provisions for the journey.

On the second floor, the twenty remaining men are caught before they can sever the stairs. They put up a brave last stand, but are gradually overwhelmed and cut down. When only ten of them remain, they surrender. Having disarmed the men on the first floor, Andrea arrives with her squad to take care of these men. The sixty remaining archers have massed on the third floor. Twenty of them desperately fire out at the enemy's archers and slingers, who vastly outnumber them. Most of these defenders are already wounded from the missiles that fly in through the loopholes with depressing frequency. Twenty more wait to fire at the enemy coming up from below. The other twenty came down from the top two floors in order to surrender. Hiero's men lead the way, their large shields held above their heads to block the arrows. When they arrive on the third floor, those archers who still have some fight left try to surround the outnumbered enemy and attack with their swords and axes. Hiero's men are exhausted, and their bloodlust was more than sated by the fierce fight downstairs. They don't want to kill poorly-armed men in a fight that's already been decided. So they easily block the attacks with their shields and half-heartedly stab their spears to force the enemy back. When Penelope's girls arrive, they take advantage of their smaller size and lighter armor to burst into the enemy's lines, disordering and demoralizing them. The archers quickly surrender before any more of them get killed. Penelope and Hiero send their forces down with the prisoners, though it takes a few minutes to get everyone to travel down the narrow staircase. They meet up on the ground level with Andrea, and follow her outside. The archers and slingers who helped pummel the defenders into submission cheer the victory. The girls are also delighted with the success they achieved with no fatalities and only a few injuries. Hiero's men suffered a larger number of injuries, but no deaths. The two hundred mercenary soldiers who pushed and defended suffered twelve fatalities.

On the third floor, Hiero and Penelope catch their breath and wait for the arrival of two unarmed thirteen year-old girls and two young men armed with swords and shields to protect them. The girls carry urns in their hands, as well as bundles slung over their backs. One of them also holds a small torch. The newlyweds head up to the fourth floor, with the shield-bearers and the girls in tow. It's deserted. Then they arrive on the fifth floor. The hallway's empty, but their are three rooms, all of them with their doors closed. Suddenly, two warriors jump down through a trap door in the roof, knocking Hiero and Penelope to the ground. The shield-bearers step up and fight these men, who are also armed with sword and shield. The two girls fearfully cower near the stairs. Hiero gets up and tries to attack the men from behind. Penelope pulls him around and points her spear up at the trap door. She can see a shadow up there, meaning there are more enemies lying in wait. The enemy leaps down a few seconds later, brandishing a two-handed broad sword. He uses the sword to slice Penelope's spear in half. She pulls out her own sword. Hiero turns to help his beloved. But a fourth fighter leaps down. He's not armored, but wields a two-handed battle ax that has a five foot-long shaft and a one foot-wide blade. Hiero hurriedly ditches his spear and leaps back to avoid the swinging blade. He bursts through an unlocked door and into a small room that thankfully contains no more enemies. The attacker bashes away at Hiero's shield with his ax, denting it and hurting Hiero's left arm, which has to absorb the force of each mighty blow. Hiero takes out his sword, crouches down so his shield protects his whole body, and waits for his opening against this very large and (in Hiero's eyes) extremely barbaric man. He assumes this eccentric oddity is a mercenary in the commander's personal guard. The barbarian continues to wail away at the large shield that the cowardly man is using to protect himself. After a few more swings, he breaks through the bronze and gets the edge of his blade caught in the wood. Hiero leaps to his feet, raises his shield (and thus also the enemy's ax) above his head, forcing the barbarian to raise his arms, lest he lose his weapon. Hiero then quickly stabs the man through the heart with his sword.

He comes back into the hallway. The shield-bearers have dispatched the first two attackers. Penelope had swung her sword down into the broad swordsman's face. Hiero kicks open another door. The room's empty. Then two men emerge from the third room. One of them stabs his spear for the back of Hiero's neck. Penelope rushes to his aide, blocking the spear with her shield and cutting halfway through the enemy's neck with her small one-handed ax. The second man swings his sword down for her head. She blocks it with her shield, but he kicks her to the ground. The man's in his early forties, with a well-trimmed beard, a spotless white and red uniform over his armor and a purple cape down his back. Clearly he's the fort's commander, and he's not going down without a fight. The commander quickly moves towards Penelope and stands over her before she can get up. Hiero lunges at him from the left and pushes him into the wall with his battered shield. A sword duel develops, and after about thirty seconds Hiero wins by forcing the point of his sword through the commander's mail and into his heart. Penelope and Hiero embrace after this stressful last series of fights. It's finally over. The shield-bearers get to the roof through the trap door, take down the enemy's flag from the pole, and put up their own. The soldiers cheer yet again. The girls are busy taking their victory laps. They carry Andrea and the other girls who stood out for their bravery around the tower. The prisoners look especially dejected when they realize they lost to girls. They simply don't know how to explain the existence of these fierce female warriors. The brighter prisoners realize that something or someone must be inspiring them to behave so unnaturally. And a few of them are eager to find out what that something or someone is.

Paying no attention to the five gruesome corpses in the hallway, Hiero picks Penelope up and kicks open the commander's door. As they hoped, his room is spacious and well furnished. Before carrying her across the threshold, Hiero lets the girls inside. One of them puts a red silk sheet over the bed and covers it with rose petals. The other one puts down an expensive-looking rug on the floor in front of the fireplace. She uses the torch to light the fire. Once it gets going, she sprinkles incense onto the flames. Once the ritual has been completed, they leave the room and run downstairs with the shield bearers. Hiero carries Penelope into the room, then closes and locks the door. For the next fifteen seconds, someone standing outside would hear the clanging of their weapons and armor falling the the floor. Finally, they rip each other's clothes off, leap into bed and begin their hard-earned honeymoon.

Giles continues with his reading. "That's interesting."

"What's interesting?," Buffy asks him.

"The Judge was German."

"What do you mean?," Buffy wonders. "I don't remember him having an accent."

"It says here that he was built in 1241 by wizards working for the Teutonic Knights in order to defeat the invading Mongols."

"Isn't that a little like saving your country by nuking it?," Xander asks.

"The Judge could only kill people who were in front of it. The wizards controlled the Judge so that it was always facing towards the enemy and away from the Knights. This source claims that it was deployed at the beginning of the Battle of Legnica, but only caused a handful of deaths before the Mongols destroyed the demon."

"It took an army," Xander recalls. "It took the Mongol army?"

"How did they kill it?," Buffy asks out of professional curiosity.

"The Mongols deployed one hundred horsemen. While fifty of them distracted the Judge by showering him with arrows, the other fifty attacked with lassoes. Ten each were wrapped around the demon's arms, legs and neck. The horsemen rode off in five directions, tearing the Judge apart."

"Drawn and quartered," Xander comments. "Not as devastating as a rocket launcher, but does have a certain charm."

"Drawn and sixthed," Giles corrects him.

"Is sixthed a word?," Buffy asks.

"It would be if people did it more often," Xander jokes.

"After the destruction of the Judge, the Mongols proceeded to annihilate the Knights and their German allies. When the battle ended, they captured the wizards and tortured them into revealing everything they knew about the monster. The wizards were then flayed alive. The Mongols buried the six pieces of the Judge in the far corners of their empire."

"Why was that part of the prophecy?," Dawn wonders.

"It wasn't. The prophecy mentions that the Judge would be reassembled, redeployed, but, and here I'm quoting the prophecy, ripped apart like the skin of a grenade tossed over a rampart.'"

"Does it say who did the ripping apart?," Buffy asks.

"No. It describes the creatures who would try to destroy the town or open the Hellmouth, how those creatures were destroyed, but not who did the destroying."

"What a jip," Buffy complains. "It's not the big evils died on their own. Wait. This guy was a priest. Does he just say God did it?"

"In some cases, yes. For instance, he claims that God caused the earthquakes that trapped the Master in his underworld portal and sunk that Satanic temple into the earth."

"Does it mention Willow?," Xander asks regarding the temple and last year's events.

"No. Only that the temple was raised and the effigy neutralized."

"That's me! I'm the neutralizer. I made it into the history books."

"What about Angel?," Buffy inquires.

"The text only refers to the entity that threatened to cause the destruction. Not to those who brought it forth. Hence, the Judge is mentioned, while Spike and Drusilla are not. So it would mention Acathla but not Angel."

"So where did that stuff about the Teutonic Knights come from?," Dawn asks.

"Chinese records that were translated into Latin by Matteo Ricci. The Spanish commentaries comprise the research material Emiliano uncovered to explain the prophecies and put them in the proper context."

"So what's the point of writing about something he knew would be defeated before anyone got a chance to read this?," Xander asks Giles.

"I don't think I'll know until I've finished reading it all the way through at least once. But I have faith that these fragments will coalesce into a cogent, coherent whole at the end."

"That's exactly how Tara said to me when she was reading Ulysses," Dawn notes.

Xander glances across the room at the television. "Looks like they're talking about us again."

"What are they saying?," Buffy asks.

"Probably the same thing they were last time I checked," Xander responds. "Deny, deny, deny."

The Potentials (sans Kennedy, who's with Willow), Andrew, Faith and Spike watch a Pentagon spokesman emphatically deny reports that soldiers are forcing Americans out of their homes at gunpoint. The poor guy can't understand where these crazy questions are coming from. He's getting frazzled and not holding up very well.

"Of course he's not saying a bloody thing," Spike declares. "That's his bleeding job."

"He doesn't look like he's lying," Faith disagrees.

"It's bloody obvious he's not telling the truth," Spike responds. "The soldiers are here."

"How do you know?," Andrew asks. "We haven't seen any."

"If you want, you can poke your head out and see for yourself. Not being too fond of sunlight myself, I'll take the word of Rupert's bird."

"I don't think you two heard Faith correctly," Rona comments. "She didn't say there weren't any soldiers. She said that the guy on tv doesn't know about it. Am I right?," she asks, looking at Faith.

"Yeah. Thanks for sparing me the trouble of explaining."

"All he says is I am not aware of troop movements,' to the best of my knowledge that hasn't happened'," Amanda notes. "I think the Mayor pulled a fast one."

"The Mayor can't do a bloody thing with the army," Spike points out.

"She told Mister Giles that she had contacts on the inside. Whoever's in charge at the base could send the soldiers out without go up the chain-of-command."

"Not for very long."

"But maybe for a day. And that's all the Mayor needs."

"If you're right, then whoever sent them better bloody hope that this town gets sacked pretty soon. If the town's still around on Monday, he might not be."

After Kit's and Elijah's families were upstairs, Angel and Connor were quickly taken into the lobby and up the elevator to their rooms. Lorne also went into hiding. But soon after Cordy, Wes, Gunn and Fred returned downstairs, Carlos came. Then Denise. Then Clarence. Then Preston. All with their families, of course. When Cordy brings him this news, Angel is alarmed, to put it mildly. Connor swears that none of this is his doing. And he gets mad when Angel implies this is Dawn's fault. Still, Connor is happy that his friends are there. He just wishes he was able to hang out with them.

"Angel, I think we should discuss rates," Cordy tells him.

"We're not charging these people."

"They want to pay. Actually, they insist on paying."

"They don't have homes to go to. I won't take advantage of that."

"Angel, remember a really long time ago when we had this exact same discussion about charging people for saving their lives? It's the same principle: paying provides closure for the people we help. Otherwise, they feel like they owe us something."

"This is different. I'm a professional hero. I'm not a professional hotel manager. This is not a working hotel."

"Fine. We just tell them there's no maid service. It's a building with rooms that people want to pay to stay in. Call that whatever you want."

"There are permits required. Permits we haven't paid for. Just because Gavin is dead doesn't mean there's not another anal retentive lawyer at Wolfram & Hart waiting to nail us on something stupid like this."

"I'm thinking a hundred a night? That's a real bargain in this city. Especially since we wouldn't be charging extra for double and triple occupancy."

"We're not charging anything. Cordy, you're not taking money from these desperate people."

"Desperate? You're making it sound like they're refugees."

"Cordy, they are refugees."

"I meant real refugees. Starving people from countries with war and oppression and no mini-malls."

"How many are here now?"

"Six families. I think." Fred comes running in.

"There's more. They just keep coming. What do we do?"

Angel groans. "Get them to rooms. Away from ours, of course." He looks at Cordy. "No charging. Not yet. After all, the bill usually comes when you leave the hotel."

"Good. You're finally starting to get out of denial. But we don't want to surprise them. On the other hand, we don't want to announce one hundred if they'd be willing to pay 150. So we'll leave it up in the air for now."

"One more thing. Find out how these people knew about us." The three of them look at Connor.

"I only told Eli. And Dawn."

"I don't think it's her," Fred says to Connor's approval. "A couple kids asked if she was here, or if we'd heard from her. I'm guessin' they had as much luck contacting her as Connor has." This worries Connor. Angel, on the other hand, is certain that Buffy and friends are fine.

"And can someone get me some more blood? Without attracting too much attention?" Angel shakes his head. "This is really gonna cramp my style. Hopefully they'll only be here for a night or two."

"By the way, I already asked around about whose idea this was," Cordy reports. "Eli told his girlfriend, who told her friend, who told his girlfriend, who told her friends, and so on until, well, if news travels as fast now as it did when I went to high school — "

"How bad?," Angel asks.

"A hundred kids, if we're lucky."

Angel does not look happy. "And if we're not?," he wonders.

"The whole school. But really doubt that will happen. It doesn't appear as if Connor's friends were the most popular kids in school. No offense, Connor."

"One teensy-tiny little snag," Fred announces. "A couple of the guys appear to have been dating some girls who knew how to fight and spent all their time with Buffy. I'm thinkin' they're Potential Slayer boyfriends."

"You mean Preston and Clarence?," Connor asks.

"You knew them? Did they have any idea what their girlfriends are?"

"Maybe a little," Connor responds. "The girls saved them from vampires. That's how they met."

"Awww. That's so cute," Fred comments. Then she thinks about how her idea of "cute" involves extreme violence and life-threatening danger. "I really need to spend some time away from demon fighters."

"But they don't know that there are all these bad guys trying to hunt and kill the girls," Connor adds. "Dawn says they don't even know why the girls are in town. And that they really didn't seem to care."

"Perfect. So we pretend we don't know anything," Cordy concludes.

"Girls falling for the guys they save," Angel says with a chuckle. "Things really have changed since I left Sunnydale."

Cordy smirks for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry. I just realized you weren't being sarcastic."

NEXT: Anya comes back and reports on the wacky and disturbing developments in Scyra. Sunnydale goes kablooey. And Riley pays Buffy (and Spike) a visit.


	45. Missed Translations

Kreon sits in a pool in a luxurious bathhouse six hundred miles from home and on the opposite side of the peninsula. Kreon dunks his head underwater and then slicks his hair back like Spike's, though Kreon's hair is still black. The floor is marble and the walls are decorated with mosaics. The circular pool is thirty feet across, with benches curving around the outer edge. High above the pool is a domed roof with a six foot opening in the center to allow light in. Kreon stares up at the waffle-patterned ceiling. Having come from a civilization that didn't use arches, Kreon's never seen anything like it. He hears Myrina walk up to the pool's edge.

"How does it stay up? I keep thinking it's gonna fall down on me."

"It would push the walls down first. But I guess they can support the roof's weight."

"Are the walls extra thick?"

"No. That's what I thought at first. But it supports itself. One of their builders showed me. It's like all the stones are falling at the same time, and they keep getting in each other's way. So they're always stuck and they never fall. I'm taking a few builders and architects back to the capital to teach us what they know."

Kreon stops gazing at the ceiling and looks at Myrina. He appears worried. "But you just got here."

"Not yet. I'll be here nine or ten days. They have a lot of questions about our art. And our stories."

"Our art? You mean your art."

"I'm not the only one," Myrina bashfully replies.

"You're the only one I care about." Myrina's dress drops to the floor, which of course makes Kreon very happy. She gets into the pool with him, sitting to his right. She puts her left hand on a four inch-long wound just above Kreon right collarbone.

"Looks like a sword."

"Mine was better aimed. It hurts a lot less when you kill the guy who gave it to you."

"It's deep."

"Not really."

"What was this one?," she asks about a puncture wound on his right pectoral.

"Javelin. From about fifteen feet away."

"Didn't you have your armor on?"

"That's why it's just a little poke. Myrina, relax. I'm fine."

"I just don't like thinking about how close you come to dying every time you fight."

"I'll be doing a lot less fighting from now on."

"You really mean that this time?"

"There's no one left to fight. No one who's challenging. I've got time to settle down."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"If you're ready." Myrina smiles and kisses Kreon. The two of them start splashing around in the center of the pool. Kreon ducks down underwater. Myrina moans and looks up at the ceiling. Kreon surfaces and they continue going at it rather ferociously. Kreon and Myrina are used to spending days together after being separated for months, so they carry on like long-lost lovers every time they get together. Suddenly, Anya teleports into the building.

"Kreon? Myrina? Aghhh!" Anya jumps back upon after getting an eyeful of their uninhibited animal lust. And Anya's a very difficult person to shock. "I'll talk to you two later. When you're dressed." Normally, Kreon and Myrina would notice someone teleporting twenty feet away from them, especially someone as important as Anya. But not now.

Penelope sits on a couch, nursing a newborn. Hiero sits to her left, playing with their one year-old son. The boy's squirming around, so Hiero places him on the ground so he can crawl. Fifteen feet in front of them, Anya materializes. Penelope gasps. The newborn starts crying. Hiero's eyes grow big and he smiles.

"Anya!," he exclaims. Hiero always liked her. Therefore, Penelope doesn't. Anya looks at the rugrats.

"Can't you people wait to do your breeding after you've done your conquering? It's much easier that way." The baby boy gazes at the stranger who suddenly appeared. He looks confused and curious. As Anya walks over to Hiero, the baby crawls over to her.

Penelope comforts her newborn daughter. Then she looks angrily at Anya. "You scared little Dawna."

"Little who?" Anya feels the baby boy tugging at her pants. She's never been good with babies, or children in general.

"He wants you to pick him up," Hiero tells Anya. She slowly bends down and takes the baby boy in her arms. He smiles and coos and reaches out to touch her face. "Looks like Conn likes you."

"Wait. She said that one's called . . . and you said this one's called - " she holds the baby out in front of her and gets a good look at him. "Well isn't that a funny coincidence. Especially since it wasn't so long ago that . . . " As her voice trails off, Anya looks nauseous. "Maybe it's not so funny." Anya hands the baby back to Hiero.

"Polite people walk into rooms," Penelope snaps.

"I like to make a nice entrance."

"And why should Anya have to bother with the guards outside?," Hiero asks his wife. "She's too important for that. Please. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?"

"No. I'm fine." Anya sits to Hiero's left. Baby Conn keeps looking at Anya and smiling. "Okay, he's starting to worry me."

"He must think you're the new nurse." That doesn't make Anya feel any less uncomfortable. Conn wriggles out of Hiero's arms and crawls onto Penelope's lap. Penelope starts feeding him and hands their daughter to Hiero. He cradles her in his arms. Dawna looks tired. Hiero shows the baby to Anya. The baby spits up, hitting Anya in the nose. The baby giggles and goes to sleep. "Sorry," he apologizes. "Let me help get that off. She's fifteen days old. They do that sometimes."

"Why are you back?," Penelope asks.

"Has something bad happened?," Hiero wonders.

"No. I'm just here to check up on you wonderful, wonderfully fertile people. And I thought bunnies reproduced quickly."

"How is Sunnydale?," Hiero asks.

"Oh, the usual. Apocalypse. Imminent destruction. Nothing's changed. Can't say the same about this place."

GIles sits alone at a desk his room, which is in the center of the back half of the bunker. He goes over his notes and writes a few more things down. Buffy enters. "Finished with the warmed-over prophecies for now?"

"I just needed a short break. I am making progress, though it might not look that way right now."

"You'll find the answer. You always do."

"Though not always in time."

"Have you found anything in there that's not old news?"

"A few lines here and there. Something about a cataclysm preparing the field of battle. References to an arena where the outcome will be decided. At, most tantalizingly of all, allusions to certain sacred weapons. "Tools that can harm what once once invincible." I'm assuming it refers to Nina.

"It doesn't mention her by name? You know, since it mentions a lot of other big bads by name."

"Not yet. And that's the problem. The references are always in the context of explaining how other apocalyptic monsters were defeated."

"It is kind of a recurring pattern," Buffy comments. "Super-monster's too much for me at first. I get frustrated. And, sometimes, a little bruised. Then we come up with a way to beat it."

"But the text also mentions dozens of incidents which don't involve you. In fact, most of them don't even involve a Slayer. And many of them occurred well before the book was even written."

"I know I've said it before, but this is sounding less and less like a prophecy book. It isn't even pretending to be about the future."

"There is a school of prophetic literature where the writer hides his predictions in descriptions of past events. That way, only the intended audience would recognize it for what it really was."

"Like a code? For demon nerds."

"I prefer to think of myself as a demon expert, but yes. While the actual prophecies focus on events in Sunnydale, occasionally there appears an isolated reference to something that occurred long ago and far away. Emiliano, to his eternal credit, did his utmost to find out what these references referred to. And, with the help of past knowledge and my books, I should able to fill in much of what he couldn't. These events were chosen because they relate, in some way, to our own fight. Hopefully, I can figure out how they relate in time to help you."

"Looming apocalypse aside, your brow seems for furrowy that usual."

"I've been thinking about Zora and Molly. And Rose and Chao-ahn. Whether I did enough to protect them from Seth and Nina."

"That's my job. And, my guilt. No reason for you to also carry it."

"I'm the one who chose to expose them to danger."

"Because if you didn't, all of the First's well-dressed slashers would have chopped the rest of us into bite-size demon treats."

"Which is why the Reapers were here: to draw out the girls so they could be attacked by the Titans. But it's more than that. A little while back, we stopped viewing the girls as helpless targets, and started seeing them as fighters."

"Because they are fighters. They have to be. And isn't that what we wanted? Isn't that why you train them?"

"When they triumph, that's how I see it. But when they die, I start to worry that maybe we expected too much out of them."

"They've proven themselves over and over. Against vampires, against Bringers, against Reapers. Those deaths happened because they faced something none of us could kill. Nina could've taken out me. Or Faith. Or Spike. Or all of us. But she chose to go after the Potentials instead." Buffy pauses for a second. "Why didn't she kill us?"

"Arrogance."

"She is big with the taunting. And you can't taunt a corpse."

"Last Friday — the night Seth first appeared — I received a call from Claude just before we left the house."

"You mean that Smoking Frenchman?"

"Yes. He called to report a noteworthy development. One of the remaining Watchers told a Bulgarian girl named Tanya that she was a Potential Slayer."

"And she wasn't? That's pretty twisted. Not to mention cruel."

"The girl lived in Varna. Some vampires from Odessa and the Crimea had sailed into her town. For at least a month, they had been making life very difficult for Tanya and her neighbors, to put it mildly. So the Watcher told her that she had a natural aptitude for fighting vampires. Intuitive instincts and reflexes. The speech you and I gave them."

"Only in this case it was a cruel, sadistic joke."

"Except for the fact that it worked. From what Claude told me, Tanya fought as well, if not better, than any of the actual Potentials."

"That's impossible. Unless either she got lucky and these vampires were especially weak."

"Very doubtful. Vampires from the former Soviet Union tend to be exceptionally hardy. You have to be to survive as a freelance killer in a police state."

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that Claude suggested that, perhaps, the Potentials possess no special intuitive skills. That it's all a Placebo Effect. That, until they become Slayers, the Potentials are no different from other girls their age."

"But we know that's crazy. We've seen what they can do."

"Because of our training. To Claude, it's a question of nurture over nature."

"And you believe him?"

"Not entirely. But, when we face setbacks, I have to wonder. Mind you, Claude has always been a heretic. He still refuses to believe in the idea of a First Slayer given her power by shamans."

"Then who the hell does he think I talked to?"

"A warrior goddess. He believes you were imbued with the power of a goddess, not that of the First Slayer."

"So where does he think Slayer Power comes from?"

"Not from men. He thinks the traditional story you and I believe is propaganda created by male Watchers to establish power over Slayers. In Claude's mind, the natural order is for Watchers to be the loyal servants of the Slayer."

"He may be onto something with that last part. Servants. Was that the exact word he used?"

"Yes. Claude has always maintained that because Slayers have all the power, and Watcher have none, it is only proper for us to be their servants."

"My servants," Buffy says with a smile. "I like that. How did this guy get to be a Watcher?"

"The Council had no choice by the tolerate Claude's subversive opinions because of his lineage. He's a ninth-generation Watcher. As long as he didn't turn evil or attempt any unauthorized contact with a Slayer, Claude was untouchable."

"Was it his idea to lie to this girl?"

"No. Gregory did that on his own. But Claude certainly didn't disapprove."

"What's happened to her? Did she die?"

"No. Largely because she was supported by other fighters. The vampires who weren't kill chose to abandon Varna. They appear to have scattered along the Georgian coast and the Turkish coast east of Trebzon. Claude said that Gregory told him Tanya's become something of a local heroine."

"A pseudo-Chosen One?"

"I suppose that from her point of view, it was not a choice, but a necessity."

"What was the point of this again?," Buffy wonders. From her view, Giles appears to be embracing an ends-justify-the-means approach to Slaying.

"That we should be careful. Understand the girls' strengths, but also recognize their limitations."

"Haven't we always done that?"

"I suppose. That's enough second-guessing for one day. I should be getting back to work."

The two of them walk back to the living room, where Faith's talking with Spike, Willow and Kennedy. "So that's how you and Angel healed so fast. Still can't quite believe that part about them worshipping Spike. Angel, I understand."

"Oh, cum on!! Bloke feels your pain, shares a good cry, and that makes him a bloody God in your eyes?"

"No. But he is more believable as a king."

"Bollocks. I'm the one who started everything. Angel showed up halfway through to piggyback of my success and bask in my reflected glory." Spike looks around. "Hey. What was that?" Anya walks in from the dining room. "You've returned."

"Anya?," Willow asks. "You've been gone a while."

"FIve days." Anya looks at the clock on the wall. "Or two hours, depending on how you look at it."

"So how are my people?," Spike asks. Faith laughs. "You know wut I mean."

"It's been close to thirty months since you left. Two-and-a-half years is a long time."

"Well get to it. Is it bad? Are they fighting again?"

"Not with each other." The good news is that Thermadonia and Amastria are at peace. The bad news is they've conquered the middle third of the continent."

"What?," Spike exclaims.

"Don't act so surprised. I told you this would happen. You don't bring that many warriors together and expect them to put down their weapons and just go home. How many soldiers did you two have?"

"At the battle? Over sixty thousand. Forty thousand heavy infantry. Fifteen thousand cavalry. Not to mention the tens of thousands of light troops we didn't bother to bring along."

"Good Lord," Giles blurts out as he walks towards them, along with Xander, Dawn and Andrew. "Alexander the Great conquered Persia with less than that."

"It seems that after Angel and Spike made peace, their armies realized it made much more sense to conquer others instead of fighting each other."

"But the army I built wasn't designed for foreign campaigns," Spike explains. "They were amateurs. Few of 'em had ever fought in a single bloody battle."

"Then they learned very quickly. When I got there, they had just conquered Anxur in an epic battle. Your people and Angel's people and the Amazons and the mercenaries all fighting together. Fifty thousand soldiers routing seventy five thousand. So everyone was pretty giddy."

"Anxur's all the way on the other coast. They're the strongest empire on the continent," Spike recalls.

"Were the strongest," Anya corrects him.

"My army wasn't prepared for their echelon tactics. What did they use to cover the flanks of their phalanx?"

"Your Slayer Corps."

"Your what?," Buffy demands to know.

"Anya, what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Your know. Your maenads?"

"Don't call them that."

"Oh! You mean the girls Spike trained to be killers," Willow realizes.

"I trained them to defend their homes. They were a militia. A home guard."

"Is that what you called them?," Giles asks, upset by the ridiculous appropriation of a term used in England during the World Wars.

"I just called my girls. They didn't need a name."

"Why do they call themselves Slayers?," Buffy asks.

"Probably cause it sounds better than Potential Slayers," Kennedy guesses. "That is where you got the idea, right Spike?"

"No. Not really. It just kind of happened. These people married girls off at thirteen or fourteen to men twice their age. I set them free, gave them the chance to ditch those wankers. But that made them targets for honor killings by the ex-husband's family. So they banded together, and I taught them to protect their freedom."

"And turn them into vicious killers who chopped people to bits," Kennedy points out.

"Those Amazons had it coming, and you bloody well know it."

"Ironic that you both mention that. Because after you and Angel made peace, those two groups decided that the ravaging and dismemberments were really just a big misunderstanding. They saw they had a lot in common. Which isn't surprising, since the Amazons had already made peace with the male mercenaries who had been their mortal enemies for generations."

"You mean those pigs finally gave up and realized they could never defeat the women?," Kennedy hopefully asks. Anya laughs.

"Not even close. They all started sleeping together." Willow and Kennedy gasp. "Evidently Spike taught the mercenaries and Angel taught the Amazons that there was another way. They could make love AND make war."

"That was always Memnon's dream," Spike notes with smile.

"But it's impossible," Kennedy maintains, still in denial. "Almost all of those women were lesbians. And they hated those particular men more than anything."

"Things can change," Spike says with a smirk, referring to Kennedy's second objection. Anya handles the first.

"Actually, it turns out only about a third of the Amazons are out-and-out lesbians. About one-sixth are straight, and the remaining half are bisexual." Willow and Kennedy think about this. Anya's estimate from the number of straights conforms with their own observations. But they disagree with the idea that most of the rest were bisexual, mostly for personal reasons.

"They only slept with men to reproduce," Kennedy argues. "They never acted like they were actually attracted to the men."

"Lesbians really just being bisexual,'?" Willow asks with a laugh. "That's not how these things really work. It's just some dopey male fantasy."

"Yes. And I'm sure if you just explained that to these women, they'd realize they really didn't like sleeping with men," Anya sarcastically replies. "After all, who should they trust — their own bodies, or you? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you. No, I did. But not that much. I asked them about the gay-straight thing myself, and they just looked at me like I was from another planet. Which was appropriate, since I am. They don't have words for gay or lesbian. The concept is foreign to them. Like I said before, they're simple, unsophisticated people. Simple, violent people. After they slept together, the first thing they did was conquer the Nemean Plateau and subjugate two tribes who had always been enemies of the Amazons."

"That was also Memnon's dream," Spike mentions. The others give him suspicious looks. "So the bloke had violent dreams. He was a bloody soldier! But clearly a visionary one."

"Of course, what with all the sleeping together, the Amazons soon got pregnant. So most of them had to settle down, and only the thousand or so lesbians could continue fighting with the men."

"They abandoned their children?," Willow asks. "Once a dirtbag, always a dirtbag. Those women sure made a mistake in trusting their old enemies."

"The mothers didn't see it that way. They told me the fathers wanted to stay home and play daddy, but that the women ordered their men to go fight. Or else they'd no longer respect them. It's like they believe that motherhood is a real job, but fatherhood is just an excuse to stay home and be lazy."

"A culture that encourages fathers not be a part of their children's lives," Buffy comments.

"And raises their daughters to be warriors," Willow adds.

Spike's mind was on something else. "What's this about the Amazons and my girls joining forces?"

"They provided the infantry for that campaign. Five thousand strong. Completely overran the enemy's fortifications."

"Five thousand? There were only three thousand of them."

"The girls Angel trained joined up. Plus, girls from the other allies."

"Angel also turned teenagers into warriors?," Giles asks with concern.

"Bloody copycat," Spike responds. "And they couldn't hold a candle to mine. First time they attacked, my girls routed them."

"You pitted them against each other?," a worried Buffy asks.

"No. I said his girls attacked mine, and mine drove 'em away without much trouble."

"They attacked because you were invading their country," Anya reminds him.

"It was negotiating tactic. I wusn't planning on any actual fighting."

"Your usual recklessness aside, wouldn't these young girls be at a disadvantage when matched up against bigger, stronger male warriors?," Giles asks Spike.

"They weren't meant for big battles. They were irregulars. Skirmishers. Light infantry and such. Using hit-and-run tactics."

"That, and swarming," Anya adds. "Which they all credit you with teaching them."

"That's just another form of ambush."

"No. I saw them practicing. It's more of a terrifying mass charge. Like Bezerkers with PMS."

"I wouldn't call them Bezerkers. They just form up in column and rush the enemy while screaming at the top of their lungs. Point is to make the blokes run away before they come to grips with the girls. You might even call it a bloodless, humanitarian tactic," Spike adds, trying to spin something that clearly has Buffy alarmed. "So Angel's birds have joined up. My girls are still in charge, right?"

"Yes. Though they've switched from their original fanatical Spike worship to a less controversial but no less fanatical Buffy worship."

"Hold on," Buffy interrupts. "They kill, they take human life, and they think I would approve?"

"From you — or, more accurately, from Spike and Angel — they learned about the importance of fighting evil," Anya explains. "But they don't have demons to kill. So, instead, they decided to attack evil people. Meaning the ones who didn't know about you and your enlightened' ways." She looks at Spike. "When you two were there, I told you that your good intentions would backfire." Buffy looks at Spike. She's not happy with this turn of events.

"I taught them how to defend themselves. Is it my fault they went on offense?"

"Like the boy who gets picked on, learns how to fight and turns into a bully," Andrew comments.

"It's less ironic, and less brutal," Anya responds. "They don't burn cities or massacre civilians. And when they win, all they do is make the conquered people accept the touchy-feely laws Angel and Spike gave them: freeing slaves, liberating women, making everyone equal before the law, blah, blah, blah. Oh, and they make the losers pay for the invasion. Plus one-third more. Then they take half the money out of all the temples. But no looting or paying of tribute. Except for the small entertainment tax. To finance their lavish productions celebrating our little adventures."

"They invade people so they can afford to re-create our lives?," Xander asks. "By the way, which adventures?"

"Mostly stuff about Buffy and Angel, or Buffy and Spike. Plus, one musical about Tara that I thought was rather well put together. She seems to have become quite popular."

"They're trying to do our musical?," Willow asks.

"No. They add songs to all the other, less tuneful, parts of our lives. It's very epic. At least, it's supposed to be. But most of what I saw looked a little maudlin. Like passion plays. Which is what they really are."

"Passion plays are about saints," Giles notes.

"Fine. They're passion plays with sex and fighting scenes. What I forgot to say was that most of the tax is used to fund productions in the conquered lands as a form of indoctrination. Then, once the people are hooked, they travel to Buffion and pay to see the real thing."

"Did you just say - ?," Buffy begins.

"Buffion. It's their new capital."

"They already had capitals," Spike points out.

"Don't worry. Spikeopolis and Angelopolous haven't been abandoned. They're both prosperous and growing."

"You named a city after yourself," Xander says while laughing.

"After I doubled the size of the country, they needed a new capital that wus closer to the new territories. But Amastria already had a capital. Angel's place was just an ego trip."

"No. It was an attempt to corner the coastal trade and keep an eye on your eastern allies," Anya explains. "But now, it's just a prosperous commercial town."

"I still don't get it," Spike responds. They were separate nations. We saw to that."

"You came in April. By winter, after the end of the first campaigning season, Thermadonia and Amastria and the Amazons all had their own conquests. Then they figured out it would be more efficient if they combined all their resources into a sort of confederation. The new government only deals with foreign matters. Thermadonia and Amastria still run their own internal affairs."

"What about Dorin and the coastal cities?," Spike asks.

"They've also joined to get a piece of the action. And with all the money flowing in from the conquests, Buffion's getting filled up with new theaters and government buildings and temples. The temple to Buffy is about one hundred yards long and fifty yards wide. And on each side of the Buffy temple are the Spike and Angel temples. They're slightly smaller: about two hundred by one hundred feet. Also, the Buffy temple's on a small hill up above the others. Lording it over Angel and Spike, you might say."

"This is wrong," Buffy announces. "This is very wrong and deeply upsetting and, just plain scary. And sick. People shouldn't be building temples to me in any dimension."

"They haven't finished the buildings," Anya continues. "But they are nearly done with the forty foot statue of you at the back of your temple."

"Again, with the scary and the sick. Did you tell them to build statues of me?," an obviously freaked Buffy asks Spike.

"No. But they did it anyway. Though they were much, much smaller. Life-size, really."

"It's hollow and made of ivory," Anya reports. "With hair of gold, and a stake made of gold in your right hand. You're standing up, and holding the stake across your body like this." Anya strikes the pose for a second. "If very life-like. And, somewhat terrifying."

"Like a giant monster Buffy," Xander jokes. "Forty feet tall. That means your fingers would be as thick as my arms, and your, other parts — okay, I'm stopping."

"How do they know what I look like?"

"I drew a couple pictures," Spike sheepishly responds. "They were begging me. I had no choice. Angel drew some too. Though he volunteered, without being begged."

"I'm wearing clothes, right?"

"Buffy, I would never - ," Spike begins.

"They do have imaginations," Anya responds. "But, no, Buffy is always tastefully covered. Though they often show a slight amount of cleavage. But it's nothing compared to what they do with Angel and Spike."

"You've got to be bloody kidding me! We wrote laws banning that."

"You thought that far ahead?," Kennedy asks. "And, that's what you thought about? Wow. You two sure are conceited and presumptuous."

"I agree with Kennedy," Xander chimes in. "Why would anyone carve a naked image of," he stops and look upset. "Okay, I won't be eating lunch today."

"Xander has a point," Willow adds. "The sculptors in that culture were men." Then Willow shivers as she realizes the answer. "Oh. They're those kinds of men." Still, the idea of men spending months lovingly creating copies of Spike's anatomy does cause her a bit of nausea.

"They're only responding to public demand," Anya claims.

"Okay, that just makes it a whole lot worse," Xander comments.

"Don't worry. In those two temples, you're both covered. Though only barely. And only, really, in front."

"I'm going to go outside and pray for the apocalypse," Xander responds.

"And I haven't even gotten to the weirdest part."

"It's a good thing I skipped breakfast," Xander adds.

"I'm with you on that one," Giles chimes in.

"The statues are about fifteen feet tall and up on pedestals. "In front of Spike's statue, in a glass case, is his leather coat. And in front of Angel's are his leather pants."

"In a temple?," Giles wonders.

"They worship leather?," Faith asks.

"They worship his pants?," Andrew follows up.

"Not in that way," Anya corrects them.

"Of course," Xander responds sarcastically. "Because that would be disgusting. As opposed to the rest of what they're doing."

"The clothes are more like relics. Symbols of their personalities and proof that they were once there."

"So that's why they insisted on keeping the coat," Spike comments. "Wanted something to remember me by."

"I'm surprised Angel didn't teach those people to live in peace with their neighbors," Giles remarks.

"They do live in peace with their neighbors," Anya replies. "Their neighbors help them conquer everyone else. That's how things work. You make peace with your neighbors so the two of you can attack someone else. Spike and Angel were too naive to understand what they were setting in motion."

"Guess I wus more successful than I could've even imagined," Spike boasts. "Enough about the big picture. How are Kreon and his sisters?"

"More successful that you could've even imagined," Anya answers cryptically. Spike doesn't yet see what she's getting at. "Kreon's married to Myrina."

"I knew those two had a future," Spike comments.

"And Penelope's married to Hiero."

"Hiero! That wanker? You've got to be bloody kidding me."

"Who's Hiero, and why does Spike hate him?," Dawn asks.

"Spike hates him?," Xander notes. "Whoever he is, he can't be that bad."

"Hiero is Angel's adopted son," Anya announces to numerous gasps.

"What you mean by Angel's son?," Dawn angrily asks.

"He was Angel's second-in-command," Spike explains. "Spent all his time with Angel. Lived to make Angel proud of him."

"The same way your adopted son Kreon treated you," Anya adds.

"I suppose. What was that?"

Xander laughs. "Someone wanted you to be his father figure?"

"I suppose this is yet another sign of apocalypse," Giles remarks.

"What exactly were you and Angel up to in this place?," Buffy asks suspiciously. "I'm getting the feeling there are a few things you're hiding from me."

"You mean like he boinked a bunch of those Amazons?," Faith asks. "Ain't that why you went there in the first place?"

"That didn't bloody happen. And I never adopted Kreon. He may have been my protege, but that was all."

"A protege. That's hardly any less disconcerting," Giles responds.

Anya tries to explain. "I think the adoption happened after you left, when Hiero and Kreon became the leaders of their own conquering armies. You two were gods, and they were the ones closest to you. So it was a way of exploiting that connection."

"Bloody perfect," Giles says with a sigh. "You've created warlords."

"Kreon's sisters did the same thing," Anya mentions with a laugh.

"They're also warlords?," Giles asks.

"Wouldn't that make them war ladies?," Xander wonders.

"Some of them," Anya responds. "But I meant they also adopted Spike as their father. Which means that, technically, you're a father of four." Anya laughs some more.

"Don't these people have real parents?," Buffy asks.

"Their mum's still alive," Spike responds. "Their dad died when they were kids. I think Hiero was orphaned at some point. Let's get back to wut matters. Why would Penelope marry Hiero?"

"You mean why would your daughter marry Angel's son?," Anya asks in jest.

Willow puts her head in her hands. "Why did I ever go back there? Why?"

"I know why," Spike answers.

"Because she wanted to spend a week at Amazon lesbian summer camp," Anya adds.

"Not that," Spike responds. "I understand why he fell for her. They did have the most charming way of meeting. Hiero put a spear through Penelope's arm. Then she killed his horse, tied him up and made him her prisoner."

"What do you mean by prisoner?," Faith asks. "How kinky are these people?"

"Prisoner of war. He was her war captive. No kink. Least not until after I left. He hasn't made her give up her career?"

"No. She's still the commander of the Slayer Corps."

"She makes a living killing people?," Buffy asks.

"So does her hubby," Spike points out. "What's with the double standard? You're the last person I'd expect that from."

"In fact, after they were married, they stormed a castle, slaughtered the garrison and spent their honeymoon there."

"That is rather romantic," Spike comments.

"That's what all their people seem to think."

"This is one sick place," Buffy notes.

"Contempt for the people who worship you. Spoken like a true God," Anya jokes.

"Don't, just don't ever bring that up. Ever," Buffy pleads. But others are more curious.

"Do they know about me?," Faith asks.

"Do they know about you? You're only the role model for all Amazons."

This upsets Kennedy. "I thought I was their role model?"

"You're a little too innocent for them, Kennedy. Every Amazon has killed men in cold blood. So, naturally, they relate to Faith. Angel seems to have put them through the whole reform-redemption grinder. Now, thanks to Faith's inspiration, they only kill in battle and leave the defenseless alone."

"You mean Angel used me as a good example?"

"I suppose. Who else would have? But they're not the only ones who like you. A lot of the people find Buffy to be, well, Little Miss Perfect — always winning and never abusing her power. You seem more human to them. And much easier to relate to. Then there are all the horny young men who go for bad girls." Xander gives a nervous, self-conscious chuckle.

"So once the women heard about Faith, they just forgot about me?," Kennedy asks defensively.

"Not at all. You did start an unfortunate tongue piercing fad, which seems to have led to hundreds of infections. But you also started a far less painful fad of warriors dating witches. It's become the new lesbian power couple over there. Especially after Malena hooked up with Hippolyta."

"Wasn't Malena the woman you helped?," Willow asks. "You know, the one who lost her kids and wanted vengeance on her ex-husband?"

"You know how these things work out," Anya replies. "She's in love with Hippolyta. Jason's in love with Olaf. Everyone's living gayly ever after."

"What about the children?," Xander asks. "Divorce is tough enough. Let alone having both your parents go gay. That's gotta be a shock."

"I talked to the two sons, and they seemed happy with the whole arrangement. Malena and Jason share custody. And the boys just adore Olaf. Turns out he's great with children."

"I thought he ate children?," Xander asks.

"He did," Anya responds in all seriousness, further confusing Xander.

"But Jason was a king," Willow recalls. "His people don't mind him not having a queen? I mean, an actual one, instead of one who is your ex-troll ex-boyfriend." Willow thinks about this for a second. "And to think, I always blamed our wacky love lives on the Hellmouth."

"Olaf's a great warrior. And the fact that Buffy knocked him unconscious makes him something of an uber-celebrity in that world. Also, Jason's bride was impregnated by Hiero."

"That rotten bloody scoundrel!," Spike exclaims. "Why didn't Penelope chop off his head for that?"

"Because, in their world, that sort of thing is more of a diplomatic alliance than an extramarital affair. Kreon's done the same thing. It's what conquerors do over there. Plus, being the self-proclaimed sons of gods gives them extra sex appeal. Basically, they've stolen Spike's and Angel's mojo."

"Not like you two guys were doing anything with it," Xander jokes.

"That doesn't sound like Kreon," Spike claims. "He loved Myrina. I never thought he'd betray her."

"They believe that if you're spending months away from the person you love, it's okay to become involved with someone else. Just so long as you don't fall in love with that new person. I don't know where they got that from."

"Certainly not from me," Spike replies, trying to imply something bad about Angel.

"Does this also apply to the women, or is it just your typical double standard?," Willow asks.

"No. They can fool around with men on the side while their husbands are away. Myrina had a fling with some brilliant foreign artist who came to town to build the Buffy statue. And Penelope was involved with a gallant warrior prince when she was engaged to Hiero. Strangely enough, they call these men Rileys."

"Guess we know who they learned it from," Faith concludes, angering Buffy. 

"Trust me, it's not," Anya assures Buffy.

"But they call them Rileys," Faith responds. "Come on."

"Names aside, this is a little different. For one thing, the men can't put their things in the women. They're stuck on third, so to speak. And, at some point, they have to meet the husbands, kneel before them, and, well, you know." Everyone's speechless. "I think it's a way for the husband to keep from feeling cuckolded and to put the man-mistress in his place. Of course, they do tend to assume that their customs are also our customs. Which means they probably believe that when Riley started seeing Buffy, he went down to Los Angeles to see Angel and, went down - "

"Don't finish that sentence," Buffy commands.

"Oh God," Xander adds. He and Buffy and Willow and Giles and Dawn all look deeply disgusted. Spike laughs. He finds the imagery hilarious on multiple levels, demeaning to both Riley and Angel. "Why would they agree to do that?," Xander asks.

"Put yourself in their shoes. What if it was Buffy? What would you be willing to do for limited access to her?" This question creates a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "That was a hypothetical," Anya says with a laugh. "I wasn't actually expecting an answer."

Though blind, Willow can sense how wigged her two best friends are right now. So she decides to shift the topic. "What about the wives? Do they enjoy the same, well, privilege' with the women their husbands sleep with? Otherwise, it's not only sick, but, you know, sexist. Which would make it even worse."

"No. They have that right. But they seemed less insecure than their husbands, so I'm not sure how often they use it. And I didn't bother to ask them if they enjoyed it." Spike was now moved to change the subject.

"How is Andrea?"

"She's second-in-command of the Slayer Corps. She wanted me to tell you that she doesn't abuse prisoners or do any of the other stuff you told her not to. Whatever that means."

"What does that mean?," Buffy asks Spike.

"Andrea was a little eager. Maybe a bit bloodthirsty. She did watch her father get murdered by Amazons when she was eight. That sort of thing can have an effect on a person."

"They call her Head Slayer, because she kills the most enemies. In battle," Anya adds. "Andrea's known for taking on the toughest enemies and killing them with a single stab wound. Which is why they all compare her to you, Buffy. That, and the fact that she's sixteen and has blonde hair. Which is pretty rare where they're from."

"She's nothing like you," Spike defensively insists. "And I never told her that she was. Andrea's a very pretty girl. And a very clever fighter. But the two of you are nothing alike. And she bloody well knows that. Doesn't she?"

"Yes," Anya answers to Spike's relief. "Penelope's much more into emulating Buffy. Cautious, responsible, always pretending the weight of the world's on her shoulders." Anya can tell Buffy thinks this is an intended slight. "As opposed to your case, when it actually sometimes is."

"And did you catch up with Penny?"

"Penny? Oh, you mean Panthesilea. The Amazon Queen who's still in love with you. And jealous of me, since I've had you and she hasn't. Also, unlike me, she seems to think you're some sort of masculine ideal, and all the mortal men she meets fall short of the sky-high standards you set." Anya starts laughing, as does Xander. "I'm sorry. It's funny it's true. She even told me that the dozens of women she's had since you left haven't filled the void."

"Women? What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Spike's ignorance surprises Willow and Kennedy. "You didn't know?," Kennedy asks him.

"Queen Panthesilea was way more into women," Willow explains. "All the Amazons knew that. She liked men, but was supposed to be very picky." Her preference for Spike seems to fly in the face of Willow's appraisal of him. But she doesn't want to gratuitously insult him. Xander and Giles can take care of that on their own.

Kennedy notices he's freaked by the news of Penny's orientation. "Look on the bright side, Spike. She was the one woman all the other women most wanted to nail. There was a sort of consensus that she was irresistible."

"Is that so?," Buffy asks.

"I resisted," Spike responds. "Even though you did say I should start seeing other people."

"That was a year ago! Back when you were soulless and I didn't want you around."

"It was also a couple months ago. Right before your big date."

"Would you two like to be alone?," Faith asks. Buffy and Spike end their little argument over the ill-defined status of their relationship.

"So Penny had a thing for birds," Spike says to himself as he thinks over Anya's news, as well as the chance it offers to make Buffy jealous. "No wonder she was so good with her tongue."

NEXT: Goodbye Sunnydale. And Hello Kate Lockley. Turns out Kate's an old friend of Stella's, and a recent ally of Rupert's.


	46. Come Tumbling Down

Kelly, Riley, Sam and Graham walk around the temporary camp established twenty miles inland on a National Guard base. The scene is chaotic, with tens of thousands of confused civilians trying to get answers from thousands of equally confused soldiers about why they are suddenly homeless and corralled in this refugee camp.

"Top brass looks like they're starting to sweat this one. Am I right, Kel?," Sam inquires.

"General's getting it from the Colonel below him and from Washington above. He's doing his best to avoid them. But I gotta tell ya, by now he's probably praying for Sunnydale to go under. Either that town's done for, or his career is."

"Is Buffy in the Initiative's old base?," Riley asks.

"That place is too cavernous to withstand an earthquake," Graham points out. "Plus, it's sixty feet under. A mudslide could easily block the shaft and cut off access to the surface."

"All I know is the people who weren't evacuated were placed in a secure underground civilian installation," Kelly reports.

"Civilian. Better not be Spike's old crypt," Riley fears.

"From what you told me, that place wasn't exactly secure," Sam mentions to her husband.

"Anyway, when I stopped by, Spike was living in Buffy's basement," Kelly reports.

"That was after your job in LA?," Graham wonders.

"After the initial job, but before the liquidation of the vampire gang and the re-ensoulment of their leader."

"I'm not sure if he was worth all that effort," Graham comments.

"Wonder what they'll do the next time Angel goes bad," Riley wonders. "He better not be thinking of making a habit of this."

"So Sam told me you guys were round that way yesterday," Kelly mentions to Riley.

"Something took out twenty two of our men at Andrews. Bite marks. Mauled bodies. Gruesome stuff. Looks like a pack of demons. We haven't yet determined what kind."

"Soldiers had been dead for eighteen hours by the time we arrived," Sam adds. "Too late to get a protein signature from the assailant's saliva. These things had jaws as strong as a grizzly's, but it could leap over twenty foot-high fence."

"The surveillance camera must have picked up something," Kelly assumes.

"No sign of anything entering or leaving the perimeter," Riley responds. "But it was dark, and these monsters were obviously very quick."

"Attacking on-base is pretty much unheard of," Graham notes. "Even at the one next to Sunnydale. And security there is a lot more lax than at Andrews. Why wouldn't a demon go after softer civilian targets?"

"This happened after a week-long spree of similar killings in the city itself," Riley replies. "Sam thinks a demon pack is trying to establish dominance."

"Victims included more than a dozen cops and several dozen suspected gang members," Sam explains. "They seem to be drawn to people who are armed. I've read about similar instances in the past where demons targeted human authority figures. But those only occurred in much smaller areas – villages or hamlets, mostly. Never on this scale."

Kelly has an idea. "I wonder if Wesley knows anything. He does live there. And he already knows more about demons than all of us put together." She takes out her phone, shocking Riley.

"This investigation is classified. And you and I aren't allowed to communicate with outsiders."

"While we were inside the town. Job's over. People are all out. I don't see how it could jeopardize the mission at this late stage."

Riley shakes his head. "And I'm the one who almost got court-martialed."

"Never break the rules, and you can always bend them," Kelly replies with a smile. She dials Wesley's apartment. Getting no answer, she calls up the Hyperion, where new arrivals stream in every couple minutes.

"Angel Investigations," a weary Cordy says when she picks up the phone. "If you need a room, call Ramada. If you need some other kind of help, we're here for you."

"Cordelia?," Kelly guesses. "Are you all recovered from what Willow called your radical demonectomy?'"

"Who is this?," a suspicious Cordelia replies.

"Sorry. It's Kelly. Kelly Campbell. I helped out your friends a little while back."

"Of course. You're that blonde soldier who slept with Wesley."

"That's not what I meant by helping out your friends, but, yes."

"Good. Because that means you can stay at his place, instead of here."

"I'm not in Los Angeles."

"Sorry. It seems someone put the word out that we were a real hotel, and the people just keep coming and coming. Excuse me." Cordy walks back out into the lobby. "No, we do not have room service! There are like a dozen restaurants in this neighborhood. Why don't you go to one of them?" Cordelia comes back into the office. "Is this how the hired help felt about me when I was growing up?" She picks up the phone. "Then what's this about?"

"I was just wondering if Wesley was around. I wanted to speak with him for a moment."

"Wait. You're a soldier. The demon-fighting kind. Are you in Sunnydale?"

"No," Kelly answers, telling the literal truth but implying a falsehood.

"And, of course, you're not lying to me."

"No."

"Because your timing is a little coincidental."

"Could you just please get him?"

"Fine. Please hold." Cordy puts the phone down and mouths "bitch," while more than a hundred miles away Kelly does the exact same thing. Wesley's standing behind the front desk. "Your new girlfriend's on the phone."

"Kelly?"

"No, your other new girlfriend. She's not evil like the last one?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"No reason." Wesley gives Cordy a funny look and walks into the office. "Kelly?"

"You sound excited to hear from me."

"Would you prefer if I sounded disinterested?"

"Course not. I just don't want you getting your hopes up. This is a business call."

"What sort of business?"

"Thursday night, more than one score soldiers were brutally killed, apparently by demons, on a base near your city. Have you heard about this?"

"I believe it was mentioned in yesterday's paper. Why do you ask?"

"An old friend of mine is investigating. I was just wondering if you knew anything."

Welsey smiles. "As a matter of fact, I do. Tell your friend the demon is dead."

"Demon? Just one?"

"A vampire by the name of Mal. More than three thousand years old. A legendary character with a massive appetite and a penchant for taking on entire armies."

"He didn't mention anything about vampire bites. And the mauling would be inconsistent with that explanation."

"Mal was not your ordinary vampire. But he's dead and gone. Angel and Connor killed him only a few hours after he took those soldiers' lives."

"I'm glad they killed the vamp, but how can you be sure he's the one responsible?"

"The attack fits perfectly with his feeding patterns over the previous few nights. As well as his traditional behavior. Trust me on this one. If your friend doesn't, ask him if there have been any similar killings since Thursday night. The previous four nights had been utter bloodbaths, but Friday was tranquil. And tonight will be the same. The killings stopped when Angel slayed this vampire."

"You seem completely convinced. Which is all the proof I need."

Wesley smiles, sits down in the chair behind the desk, reclines and gets comfortable. "So. How are things?"

"I'm alive. Healthy. No disfiguring scars. You?"

"Same. A little roughed up from our epic struggle with Mal the other night. But nothing disfiguring."

"Glad to hear that."

"I probably shouldn't be asking you about this, but it seems that this morning several battalions worth of soldiers forcibly expelled every resident of Sunnydale from their homes. Would you happen to know anything about this?"

"Only in the sense that I was one of the soldiers. In fact, I commanded one of the battalions."

Wesley is quite shocked to hear this, and almost tips over in his chair. He sits up straight and gets serious. "You were there? Are you still there?"

"Right now, I'm with everyone else at a nice secure location way away from the Hellmouth."

"Would you happen to know anything about Buffy? Has she been evacuated?"

"She's still there. But she's safe. Same goes for the rest of her friends. You guys shouldn't worry."

"We wouldn't, I mean, Angel wouldn't, if he could contact her."

"Sorry. Can't help you there. Communications are down. No one can call in or out. Security precautions."

"Precautions for what? Kelly, what's happened?

"Nothing. Not yet, anyway."

"Forgive for sounding incredulous, but the United States military does not clear out an entire American town for nothing."

Kelly looks around to make sure she's alone and no one can hear her. She's standing in a forest bordering the improvised camp. "This is very strictly classified."

"You can trust me. I won't tell a soul."

"What about Angel's?"

"Other than my friends. But only them."

"I suppose you guys are about the only civilians who can handle it. Only ones outside of Sunnydale, that is. Word is there was a prophecy about the town getting smashed sometime today. And it was considered credible enough for us to pull out all the stops."

"A prophecy?" This really peaks Wesley's interest. "What sort? And who noticed it?"

"A highly-placed civilian. The Mayor, as a matter of fact." The word "Mayor" instinctively worries Wesley.

"And your commanders believed this source to be trustworthy?"

"If they didn't, I wouldn't be here."

"Of course. Silly me. I merely asked because the last time I was in that town, its mayor was a gigantic demon snake."

"I think the voters learned their lesson after that," Kelly jokes. "Thanks for the 411 on our demon."

"Well, thank you very much for your information."

"By the way, I might have the chance to make a quick dash down to your town in a couple days. Would that be okay with you?"

"No. It would be wonderful."

"Cool. Talk to you later." She hangs up. Wesley leans back, smiles and and thinks about Kelly for a few seconds. Cordy opens the door.

"Oh no. You look satisfied. Please tell me you two didn't have phone sex. We all have to use this office."

"Cordelia, please. We merely discussed what we've been up to recently. Which, in Kelly's case, involved a visit to Sunnydale this morning."

Cordelia looks surprised and curious. "You mean your girlfriend's one of the jack-booted Gestapo thugs' everyone coming into this hotel is complaining about?"

"I suppose this is something I should explain to everyone." Wes gets up and limps out of the office. Meanwhile, Kelly walks over to Riley and Sam.

"Wesley said your perp was some super-vampire named Mal. Also, he said Angel killed it that same night."

"Those wounds were not caused by a vampire," Riley insists.

"Not so fast," his wife dissents. "All of the bodies were drained. And all the bite marks severed major arteries. That's inconsistent with your standard demon mauling."

"Vampires don't bite like that. And no single vampire could have run down all those men."

Kelly tries to explain. "This vampire was over three thousand years old. I'm sure he was exceptionally fast and strong."

"Then how did Angel kill him?," Riley asks.

Kelly thinks about this. "Good question." After all, she was able to twice fend off Angelus in one-on-one encounters. "It was Angel and his son Connor." Kelly realizes the irony of Angel – who a few weeks back killed two soldiers – doing the military a favor by destroying a vampire who killed twenty two soldiers (and had every intention of killing more). It helps prove her point about re-ensouling Angel being worth the effort. "Were there any killings in LA last night? Wesley and you both said there were a bunch earlier in the week."

"Over two hundred," Sam responds. "You think one vampire could do all that?"

"You said this vampire's name was Mal," Graham jumps in. "Did your boyfriend tell you what he looked like?"

"No. I didn't bother asking. Does it matter?"

"I was working in Eritrea last year. The locals told stories about a really old vampire from that part of Africa named Mal. I guess he was like their Dracula or something. I'm just wondering if that's the same guy."

"I remember Dracula," Riley recounts. "He couldn't take out that many soldiers. Even on his best night. And he certainly didn't bite like whatever did this job."

At 1:30, Estella enters the bunker. Giles immediately stands up and walks over to her. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah, well, you look a little run-down yourself, Rupert."

"I've been pouring over your ancestor's work. Which is certainly nothing compared to what you've been through."

"You got that right. Let's just say that right now I'm even less popular than the last mayor – after he started eating the citizenry."

"Is it over?"

"Everyone's out. Except for you fine folks."

"That's great. You did it. Please, sit down. I'll make you some tea."

"Is that your people's people's cure for everything?," Stella jokes. "I'm not going to be staying, anyway."

"You mean you're leaving?"

"I already did. Then I came back. There's another shelter. One that we built just for our family. I'll be over there with Vince."

"Are you sure it's safe to return to the surface?," Giles asks.

"You're right. As usual." Giles smiles bashfully. Even though they're not touching or, God forbid, smooching, Giles getting all mushy with his girlfriend is a bit icky for Buffy. "It's joined to this one. There's a door on the other side connecting the two."

"You never mentioned a second crypt," Spike points out. "And to think, all this time I coulda gotten a little peace and quiet."

"It's nowhere near as nice as this place."

"Neither was his old home," Xander notes.

Stella looks at Rupert. They hold hands. "Guess I'll see you after the disaster," she tells him.

"Yes. Well, until then."

"Yeah. Until then."

"Because I really should stay here with everyone."

"Go ahead," Madari suggests.

"You let us have our smoochies," Amanda reminds him. "Now it's your turn." 

Giles and Estella let go of each other's hands and each take a step back. Stella gives Rupert a nervous half-smile and walks away. She goes through the doors connecting the front half of the bunker to the back half. In the back half, next to center bedroom, which happens to be Giles's, is another door. It leads to a 120 foot-long tunnel that connects the two bunkers. Estella enters. Her brother's already inside. This one is a far more modest affair. The bunker's ten feet wide and thirty feet long. Inside are two cots, a fridge and a small black-and-white television. Vincente's fiddling with the rabbit ears to get better reception.

"It's amazing we can get anything at all down here."

"It's amazing you care. As if they can tell us anything."

"I would like to keep track of this crisis, seeing how it is of our own making. Why didn't you bring Rupert over?"

"He wants to be with the girls. Also, I think he'd feel a little weird about being with me while you were around."

"But we're old friends. He's never felt uncomfortable around me before."

"He's never been dating your sister before."

"It's not as if I object."

"I know. But he doesn't. And, even if he did, I think it would still be a little awkward." Stella picks up their satellite phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Another civilian. But one who's on the inside."

"You mean your friend Kate?"

"She's your friend, too." Stella dials her up. Ten miles outside of town, Kate stands at a road block that's keeping people from entering Sunnydale.

"Lieutenant Lockley."

"It's me, Katie."

"Stella! How are you?"

"Safe and sound. Just like everyone else from this town."

"Thanks to you. Is Rupert there?"

"No. He's with his little army."

"Any you're what? Cooped up all alone with Vinnie in that, what did you call it, subterranean trailer?"

"Pretty much. You sound awful eager to speak to Rupert."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. From what he says, you two really hit it off in Fresno."

"Relax, Stel. Rupert's charming, but he's a little old for me." Kate holds off on an Angel-related caveat, since Stella isn't aware that the two of them have crossed paths. "I just wanted to give him an update on the, you know, post mortem situation. The Algerian consul was pretty brutal and unreasonable, especially since the family wasn't putting up any fuss. But yesterday they came around."

"Another international incident averted. That's good. How are things where you are right now?"

"People are acting like it's the end of the world. Can't blame them."

"All thanks to me."

"Don't play the self-pity card with me, Stella. I know you must have your reasons. Really, really good reasons."

"Even you sound like a doubter."

"Stel, I believe. Even if sometimes I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be believing in."

"Let's just say I got rock-solid tip. One I would have been insane not to act on."

"And one that makes you look insane when you do act on it. I've had a few of those in my day. But nothing of this magnitude."

"Because you've never been to the Hellmouth."

Wesley and Cordelia are upstairs, explaining the situation to Connor and Angel.

"So Dawn's safe?," Connor asks.

"For the third time, yes," a somewhat peeved Cordy responds.

"But Kelly hasn't seen her. So she can't really know."

Cordy sighs. "She's fine, Connor. Look at it this way: even if they're in danger, we both know Buffy the Martyr's going to give her life before she lets Dawn get killed."

Connor smiles. "I can hope." Angel is not happy with his son's sentiments, to say the least. Cordelia continues.

"So the only way Dawn is going to die is if both of them die. Then the two of you can head off and spend the summer together in Tibet or Kathmandu or wherever it is the men in your family go for high-quality brooding. Or, you two could get lucky and the world will end. Either way, there's no point in worrying about them."

"I see the old Cordelia is back in fine form," Wesley comments, trying to make light of her offensive bluntness. Cordy's just trying to break the mope cycle that she's grown sick of. Now that Connor and Angel don't have to worry about an imminent existential threat to themselves, they spend all their free time fretting over the safety and security of the Summers women.

"Now I know what the worst part of an apocalypse is," Andrew concludes with the certitude of an overnight sage. "The waiting."

"No," Buffy corrects him. "The worst part of an apocalypse is the apocalypse."

"You're both wrong," Giles tells them from over at his table, which is covered in books and papers. "The worst part is the pressure of trying to discover a way to avert the apocalypse before it's too late."

"How is that coming?," Anya asks.

"Rather well, considering how I began my work only a few hours ago. The good news is, it appears that there exist ancient objects that can help us defeat Nina. The bad news is, it also appears that those very same objects can be used by Nina to defeat us and extinguish the Slayer Line. And the even worse news is, I've uncovered no clues as to where we can find these objects. However, on the bright side, I'm certain that if the First knew where to find them, Nina would already be in possession them, and would have killed us all."

"When did the apocalypse turn into a glorified scavenger hunt?," Spike derisively asks.

Nina stands at the edge of what was the old makeout point overlooking Sunnydale from the north. Darla stands a few feet to her left. "You'll find that people are a lot like rats," Darla tells the Titan. "Full of disease. Able to thrive in the worst filth. And they both know when to leave a sinking ship."

"It's so quiet," Nina observes. "Even the animals are gone. No birds chirping. Just buildings and meadows full of emptiness. Generations of toil about to be wiped away in a matter of minutes. Really goes to show you how nothing's permanent."

"Wrong," Darla replies with a grin. "We are." Darla then vanishes. Nina gazes up at the clear blue sky. She looks to her right out at the ocean a few miles to the west of her.

"Even you'll be gone one day," Nina says to the sea. "Just like the planet you cover. Even that's not built to last." The tranquility is abruptly shattered when the ground begins to shake violently. All around Nina, earth tumbles down the hill. Cracks open up in the valley floor. Down in the bunkers, power flickers on-and-off for a few seconds before everything goes dark. Andrew throws his body at the big-screen television and entertainment center to prevent it from crashing to the floor. He quickly pulls the wooden sliding door covering shut to protect their connection to the outside world. The Potentials fall off the couches. Most of the others tumble from their chairs as well and grope around in the darkness. Kennedy holds onto Willow so she doesn't feel scared and alone. Of course, right now, they're all as blind as Willow. But after ten seconds, battery power comes on in their bunker, providing dim light. Buffy stands and tries to balance her feet as she looks around to make sure everyone's all right. Faith leans against a wall in the doorway to her bedroom. The coils the bunker rests upon undulate, translating the tremors into a semi-rhythmic heave-ho. Over in the other bunker, there is no battery power or coil supports. Stella and Vince just sit on their cots and lean against the the wall, gritting their teeth and hoping the ceiling holds. Twenty miles away, at 2:41 in the afternoon, the soldiers and civilians at the emergency camp can feel the ground beneath them tremble. The Colonel and Brigadier General breathe an odd sigh of relief.

The tremors last for more than a minute. Buildings crumble. Cracks in the pavement spread into three foot-wide crevasses. Power lines collapse onto the roofs of houses. As the ground convulses, the sky turns dark gray. Nearly a dozen bolts of lightning strike various parts of the town, starting several conflagrations. Up in the hills on the east side of town, next to the oil wells, tanks holding liquid natural gas burst open and explode, setting the nearby woods on fire. After what felt like an eternity, the ground settles. About a minute later, power returns to both bunkers. Everyone looks around, makes sure the others are okay, and assesses the damage, which is minor. The bunkers were built to withstand quakes, and there's nothing hanging on the walls that could have crashed to floor. Cups and dishes are all plastic. They spend a few minutes catching their breath and waiting for an aftershock. Finally, Xander decides to say what everyone's thinking.

"Is that it? And, if it is, how can we be sure?"

"There's only one way," Buffy responds.

"We still need to be careful," Giles cautions. "Before we do anything, I should go over and talk to Estella."

"Tell her thanks for the prophecy," Andrew suggests.

"And the free digs," Spike adds. "And ask if they're planning on staying. It would be nice to have my own place again."

"Yes. I think we all look forward to that day," Giles responds before heading over. When Giles returns, he punches a few buttons on the keypad near the front door. A periscope comes down, causing more than a few jaws to drop.

"You're girlfriend really thought of everything," Xander notes.

"It's so great to have a house with a periscope again," Andrew announces, mostly confusing everyone else. Giles takes a look, fiddles with the focus and rotates around. Then he fiddles with the focus some more, trying to get long-distance views, and rotates around once more. Finally, he presses a few more buttons and the periscope rises up into the ceiling.

"The town is more or less leveled, best as I can tell."

"What about the rest of the prophecy?," Willow asks. "That's earth. But where are the other three elements?"

"We could wait until nightfall for something else. Or, we could surface and look for ourselves. Stella is of the opinion that we should do the latter. I would tend to agree. After all, she has been right so far."

"You are so prophecy-whipped," Anya jokes. "Not that I'm criticizing. I find it adorable when men are utterly dependent upon the women they're attracted to."

One by one, they emerge from the bunker. Being in an open field away from the houses and buildings takes away from the immediacy of the destruction. But, since the property's on a slight rise about fifty feet above most the town, it affords them something of a panoramic view of the scale of the damage. About half the buildings in town are completely destroyed. Most of the rest are damaged well beyond repair. It's especially jarring to Buffy, Xander and Giles, since they've lived in this town for so long. Willow would feel the same way, if she could see. Giles notices the isolated blazes amidst the rubble, as well as the large brush fire about a mile behind them. He also spots the collapsed water tower, whose spilled content caused a deluge and mudslide that buried several dozen homes. "Earth, fire, water. I think we're nearly there."

"Now all we need is a tornado," Xander adds.

"Whose to say we haven't had one already?," Giles asks as he takes in the desolation.

"Is that our house?," Buffy wonders.

Dawn squints and looks closely. "Maybe. Hard to tell from here."

The gang starts to split up. Anya goes with Xander to check on his old place. Giles walks over to Estella and Vincente. Kennedy takes Willow by the arm and tries to describe what she sees. The Potentials follow Buffy to see about her house. Buffy turns around and looks at Dawn. "Are you coming?"

"Maybe later." She always feels out of place around Buffy and the Potentials. Meanwhile, Estella's rather shellshocked by the damage.

"I create a ruin, and I call it my first term," she darkly jokes.

"You had nothing to do with this," he assures her.

"True. But it's not exactly the legacy I planned on leaving behind. Generally, when you leave office, you want the city to be better off than it was when you got elected." She pauses "It's strange, seeing everything you've always known, always took for granted, just gone. The town where I've spent my whole life – erased in a moment. I know it's pathetic – feeling nostalgic about a place like this. But where the hell do I go from here?"

"To bigger, better and, hopefully, less perilous places," Giles assures her as he takes her left hand in his right.

"You ever been to Pompeii?," she asks as they stroll through the ruins.

"Yes, I have."

"Me too. That place held up a lot better than this town," she says with a laugh.

"The inhabitants certainly didn't," Rupert responds.

By three o'clock, the television stations were reporting that seismologists had detected a massive earthquake in or near Sunnydale. Angel and friends watch from his room. Scores of their new guests congregate around a small tv in the lobby, as well as around several portable sets brought by the fleeing families. They're all silent. Too stunned to feel relieved as of yet. But stunned enough to lose their previous outrage at the harsh manner in which they had been evicted from their homes. The only people in the building who aren't in the least bit surprised are Kit and her father. They sit in their new room, listening to the radio.

"When did you start to notice the buildup?," Kit asks her father.

"About three weeks ago."

"And you didn't bother telling me?"

"I knew you'd sense it before it was too late."

"And yet you're surprised by what we're hearing. Why? You knew better than just about anyone that Sunnydale was about to blow."

"The question was how. I agree with you that an earthquake makes obvious sense. But on a deeper level, you're making the mistake of mixing geology and mysticism. The evil energy's under the surface, but it's not like it goes down to the earth's core or something. That's ridiculous. It's clearly an extra-dimensional portal, getting its energy from other worlds, not our own planet's interior."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Burning sulfur shooting out from under your school, engulfing the town in fire and brimstone."

"Wouldn't that be a little too Biblical? Not to mention trite," Kit jokingly asks her dad.

"It's a classic. And far overdue for a comeback," he jokes back. "Towns are destroyed by earthquakes all the time. Evil has nothing to do with it. I was expecting something more . . . unique. Sunnydale was a unique place, to put it mildly."

Dawn stands there, just outside the bunker entrance, while everyone else scatters. She takes several deep breaths, then turns around to face west. "Get in!," she screams. "Get in! Get in!! Get in!!!" Her voice echoes against the rubble. A couple people look back and scratch their head.

"What's Dawny screeching about?," Willow asks Kennedy.

"Who knows?" They both shrug their shoulders and continue walking. Kennedy describes what she sees, and Willow tries to figure out what they are near.

Dawn sprints towards Buffy, catching up to her and the other five Potentials just before Dawn is about to collapse. She hyperventilates and tries to explain the situation in between gasps for air. "You have to get back inside. Everyone does. It's not over. There's more."

NEXT: Riley sees Buffy – and Spike. Angel lets all the new arrivals know who's in charge. And Nina gets to work.


	47. Aftermath

Nina takes an interest in Dawn. Riley visits Buffy, and tells them about his encounter with Darla. Meanwhile, Angel addresses the new arrivals, and Wolfram & Hart try to pick up where Mal left off.

"Did the Mayor send you to tell me this?"

"Right. The Mayor. She's probably with Giles. You have to find them. They're not safe. No one is."

"Dawn, what are you talking about?"

"I had a vision. Of a flood. Everything covered with water. We need to get back inside."

"A vision? Aren't those supposed to be about LA?"

"I guess. I don't know. I'm new at this. But I know what I see. Something else is going to happen. I don't know when. Maybe in an hour. Maybe in five minutes. But if we're here when it happens, we're dead. Buffy, you have to believe me."

Buffy ponders this for a few seconds. No harm in being careful. After all, they're not doing much more than sightseeing. Nothing essential. "Go straight back. Run," she tells the Potentials. "You too, Dawn."

"But I have tell the others."

"I'll take care of that. Just go." Dawn stares at Buffy, trying to figure out whether to help or do what she's told. She's also trying to ascertain if this moment means Buffy trusts her and sees her as someone who's responsible and useful, or if she's merely playing it safe. Then Dawn walks back. She's a little too tired to run. Buffy races after Willow, then Xander, then Giles, then Faith.

"Taking orders from your kid sis," Faith comments. "Maybe the Hellmouth really has frozen over." Buffy was in no mood for jokes. She ran down Giles once again, because he was heading away from the shelter.

"You walk back, or I'm carrying you back," she promises.

"Stella's trying to find Vince. He's surveying the damage in his truck. I'm going to help her find him."

"I'll help her."

"I'm at least as effective in my car as you are on foot. Return to the others. I'll be joining you soon."

"I don't know if soon' is enough time."

"You mean Dawn doesn't know."

"She says the vision thingy told her nothing about when this would happen. Only that it would."

"A flood. That would seem to imply a tsunami. Which results from earthquakes well offshore. What we experienced was most definitely onshore."

"What was that you told me once? There's not to reason why.' Something something do or die.'"

"As much as I seek to NOT model our humble outfit on the Light Brigade, I suppose you have a point. Which is precisely why I need to find Vince and Stella. Let's face facts: if the deluge comes, better me than you."

Buffy can tell he's serious. Which worries her. She's really big on the "Leave No Man Behind" rule, especially when the man is someone she cares about as much as Giles. "Find them. But hurry." Buffy heads back to the shelter. Giles drives off. He thinks Vincent went towards the southwest sector. Buffy returns at 3:40, thirty five minutes after Dawn had her vision.

"Just when I was finally getting used to some peace and quiet around here," Spike complains, half in jest, about everyone returning. "So the First's not done playing demolition?"

"Looked pretty done to me," Faith responds, reflecting the opinion of most of them. Dawn sits off in a corner, feeling very self-conscious. The Potentials hadn't been aware of her visions. Everyone else viewed them as an abstraction, something that had no connection to their lives. Now things were different. And it doesn't help that she can't answer all the pressing questions about how and when this final blow would be dealt to Sunnydale. As the clock struck four, Buffy grew increasingly worried about Giles.

Watching the in-gathering from a safe distance was Nina. What she saw confused her. So she summoned her boss to provide answers. "Who gave them are our plan?," she asks Darla.

"That politician seems to have an inside source."

"It's not her. Not this time."

"You're right," Darla says as she watches Buffy race from person to person. "Buffy's playing Paul Revere."

"She's just the courier. The message came to her from the girl."

"You'll have to be a little more specific."

"The one we don't need to kill."

"You mean the leftover," Darla says with a wicked smile. "The ward Buffy's been saddled with." Darla morphs into Glory. "Thanks to me. And you."

"Your unconsummated lover," Nina replies with a smirk. "Your long-lost better half."

"We both know the story," an annoyed Glory replies. "Skip the flashbacks."

"Gladly. Her power is inert. All of it."

"Don't I know it," Glory tells Nina with an angry snarl.

"So how can she be the one who knows?" Glory turns back into Darla. Nina stares intently at her for a long while. "You're hiding something. You've never told me who you are."

Darla laughs. "I'm your boss. And your best friend. You know everything about me."

"Not you. Her. Who was she?"

"Does it matter?"

"I think it does."

"I take this form only because it pleases you."

"Nice try." Nina walks towards Darla, who nervously backs up. "You have a personality. Feelings. Desires. There's too much there for it not to matter."

"Funny. You're usually the ravish first, ask questions later kind of girl."

" Let's just say that's because you give really good chatter," Nina jokes back. "And once I get you loosened up, you slip up and let out a useful nugget of info every now and then. You were a vampire. One who lived a very long time. You died in this town. You loved a man. You still do. But he left you."

"Has someone been passing you Cliff Notes after class, Nina? Because most of what you're saying involves things we've never even talked about."

"I can pick up clues. You're full of passion. And caring. With a big gaping need to be loved. It's all there on the surface. Oozing out your pores. You have a stake in this fight. I want to know what it is."

"You should spend less time thinking about me and more time thinking about your enemies."

"Because you're so much more fascinating than them." Nina puts her right arm around Darla's waist and pulls her close. Darla giggles. Nina runs her left hand through Darla's hair, then pushes back her head to expose Darla's neck. She's expecting one of Nina's licks. Nina's been giving them away to Willow and Anya, so the First figures it's definitely due. "I can make you happy. I can also make you hurt. Make you feel pain." Nina stares down menacingly at Darla. Her left hand pulls hard on the back of Darla head as if Nina's preparing snap Darla's neck, or do something else punitive. "One way or another, you are going to answer my questions."

"Hurt me, and you're only hurting yourself."

"So you've always said. And I've always wanted to put that to the test." She pushes Darla fifteen feet backwards.

"Doesn't make sense to bite the hand that feeds you. Unless that's what floats your boat these days."

"You're right," Nina concedes. "Focus on our enemies. Which brings me back to the girl who's cracked our code."

"It's obviously borrowed power," Darla concludes.

"Then the question becomes, Who is she borrowing it from?"

Five minutes after four, Giles enters the bunker. Buffy runs up and hugs him, taking Giles by surprise. "I just went halfway across town. Not halfway around the globe."

"I was worried about you."

"That's readily apparent."

"Where's your a, umm, the Mayor?" Buffy doesn't want to say "girlfriend."

"Stella's tracking down her brother. She told me to return."

"Smart woman," Buffy comments, glad that she and Stella are on the same wavelength.

Estella finds Vincente looking over what is left of the high school. "Remember what you said to me at the dedication?," he asks her. "Why build a new high school? It's just going to get knocked down like the last one."

"It was a joke."

"Good jokes always contain a morsel of truth. More than a morsel in this case. Fifty million dollars, and it doesn't even last the first school year."

"I'm sure the tax payers will demand an explanation," she kids.

"Didn't cost them that much. Debt financing. Hopefully, the bond holders will be understanding."

"Wasn't it ensured?"

"Couldn't afford insurance. Premiums were too high. Actuarial tables pinpointed the exact location of the Hellmouth decades ago."

"Remember when we went to school here, and we always wondered why they built it on such an awful spot?"

"We knew we were tempting fate by rebuilding here. Then again, where else were we going to put it?"

"Where else were we going to put it? That's always been our town motto."

"Do you feel relieved?"

"You mean because no one died?"

"Yes. But also because it's over. We did our job. Mom and Dad would be proud."

"It's not over."

"For us it is."

"I meant the destruction. Rupert's sure there's a second act. We need to get back inside."

Stella and her brother are back in their shelter at 4:20. At that point, the waterline at the beach has receded by over a half-mile. Nina looks down, eagerly anticipating what's to come the way a child looks forward to demolishing the building another kid has painstakingly constructed with his wooden blocks. To her, the sea looks like a giant spring that is contracting and tensing up, poised to burst out. At 4:21, just after Vince and Stella have sealed the door, and before they've had a chance to sit down and turn on the tele, they detect a faint rumbling. A plastic cup on a table starts to vibrate. Everyone at the main bunker goes quiet and listens to the vibrations as they slowly get louder. Nina sees the two hundred foot-high tidal wave rise up majestically into the air. The people underground can hear the thunderous roar as it approaches. The wave pulverizes the sandy bluffs at the edge of the beach and quickly devours the town behind them, sweeping up into the hills to the east, felling trees like matchsticks and extinguishing the growing fires. The foamy water passes less than ten feet below where Nina is standing, stripping much of the soil away, but not dislodging the rock she stands on, though many of smaller rocks a few feet in front of her tumble down into the surf.

Buffy and her friends hear the wave crashing above them. Now that Dawn's been proven right, the Potentials, Andrew, Faith, and the others look at her with even more bewilderment, as well with a tinge of frightened awe. Dawn decides to head off to her new room and be alone. Buffy goes up to her door, planning to enter and talk to her sister, but decides against it. She doesn't quite know what to say. Her feelings about the Dawn having visions are mixed, to say the least. A few minutes later, Giles heads over to the other shelter in order to make sure Stella and Vince made it back. To his surprise, he meets up with Stella in the tunnel as she walks the other way.

"Hey there, Rupert. I just wanted you to know I'm fine."

"I assume you found your brother."

"And made it back just in time. How did you know something else would happen?"

"It's a long, complicated story."

"Isn't it always?"

"At least for us."

"I'm going to make a few calls and try to get your phones up and running."

"Thank you. That would be a great help."

Estella laughs and shakes her head. "A flood. Wasn't expecting that."

"I know what you mean. Sunnydale is perched one hundred feet about sea level. And any earthquake close enough to destroy the town could never set off a tidal wave."

"Look on the bright side, Rupert. The fires must be out by now."

"And the soggy ground could slow down our demon enemies."

"Like the showers before the Battle of Waterloo."

Giles grins. Beautiful, intelligent, a hereditary sacred duty. AND she uses English references. Things would be perfect, if only everyone he cared about wasn't in imminent danger of being killed by a seemingly invincible Titan. There was always something.

"Paris was nothing like this," Angel complains to Lorne. "Why are they singing rock songs? It's ludicrous."

"Willing suspension of disbelief, Sugarplum."

"Don't get me wrong. I love musicals. But this is a music video. And Toulouse-Lautrec was nothing like that!"

"It's not meant to be a documentary."

"I know. It's supposed to be entertainment. But this is not entertaining me."

"Can't we just shut up and watch the movie?," Connor pleads.

"What do you think?," Angel asks his son.

"Just wondering if the musical spell Dawn and her friends were under was anything like this."

"I hope it wasn't," Angel responds. "I hate to think of Buffy expressing her feelings by belting out songs she heard on top-40 radio."

"From what I was told, the demon supplied them with original music and choreography, while they provided the original lyrics," Lorne explains. "And the book, naturally."

"How am I supposed to believe Nicole Kidman's dying of consumption?," Angel asks. "She looks strong enough to throw Ewan MacGregor halfway across the room."

"He probably wouldn't mind that," Lorne quips. "I know I wouldn't." Gunn, Fred, Wes and Cordy stagger into the room and plop down on the nearest chairs and couches. "Rough day?," Lorne asks. Fred and Cordy glare at him.

"You're lucky to be green and horny," Fred tells him, since he's the only able-bodied one among them who could take it easy today.

"I did so much walking, the bandage on my foot broke twice," Wesley reports. "I'm very much looking forward to wearing a sneakers that aren't filled with blood." Angel realizes he can smell the blood, which is never good, since it instinctively tempts him.

"By the way, I'm hungry," Angel reports. His weary human friends shake their heads. "I meant Lorne. He could take the elevator down to the basement and back without getting spotted. You know where my blood fridge is."

Connor can hear talking in the room behind him, as well as across the hall. "How many people are here?"

"We stopped counting after five hundred," Gunn replies.

"Very funny," Angel responds, assuming he can't be serious.

"No. Very tiring," Fred tells him.

Cordy gives Angel the numbers. "One hundred sixty out of one hundred sixty rooms filled. I saved the rest for us."

"We're sold out!," Lorne exclaims. "And to think, this morning we weren't even in business."

"We still aren't in business," Angel maintains.

"Wrong," Cordy dissents. "We charge, we're a hotel. We don't, we're a shelter. Either way, this is completely new territory for us."

"How did this happen?," Angel wonders.

"Let me think," Cordy responds with mock seriousness. "You go evil. Your son decides to pay a visit to your old stomping ground."

"I didn't know he lived there. I knew you lived there. That's why I went."

"So now this is my fault?"

"It's nobody's fault," Angel assures Connor and Cordy. "Except for that Eli kid. He's the one who put out the word that this was a good place to crash."

"So now you don't like my friends?," Connor asks.

"Friends? He's the only one I've met."

"And you don't like him. What's Eli ever done to you?"

"Can we end this disturbingly normal father-son spat and get back to our little crisis?," Lorne suggests.

"You're wrong, Angel," Cordy tells him. "Connor knew I was from Sunnydale because he saw my yearbook when I lived with him. After I came back here with amnesia."

"You're blaming The Powers That Be for our current overcrowding?," Wesley asks.

"Why not? After everything else they've done to me."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Angel declares.

"Then why did you blame my friend?," Connor asks.

"Can we forget about him for a moment? These people don't have homes. In a couple days, they'll find somewhere else to stay. Until then, we'll have to adjust."

"What happens if we get a case?," Fred wonders.

"We work on it, just like always," Angel responds. "We tend to do our killing off the premises. We do our research behind closed doors. And remember, the demons can't hurt anyone in here."

"People can't hurt anyone in here, either" Gunn reminds him. "Wonder what's gonna happen the first time someone tries to knock around their little brother."

Wesley tries to punch Gunn's right shoulder. There's a flash of green light, and he can't connect. "That could raise a few eyebrows," Wesley notes.

"As might all those sharp, shiny weapons in the lobby," Lorne adds.

"Good point," Angel responds. "Tonight, once everyone's up their rooms, you guys take the weapons out of public view. Just put them in the office for now. And lock the door." Angel sits up on the bed and tries to rise to his feet, but quickly sits down again. "Get me another pitcher of blood. It speeds the healing. Tell our guests' to assemble in the lobby at ten tonight. I'm going to welcome them."

"Are you sure you're up to that?," Cordy asks.

"I can manage. These people know I own the place. I need to make an appearance."

"Never one to let down your public," Lorne comments.

It's after seven in the evening, and shortly before sunset. The Scoobies have just finished dinner. Estella Santos walks into their living room. "Stella. What brings you to our side of the hole?," Giles asks.

"Saying goodbye." Naturally, Rupert looks disappointed. "Don't worry. I'll still be around. Right now I'm heading out to see all the displaced townsfolk."

"It's dry outside?"

"Must be. At least at this altitude. Vince left half an hour ago. Is your phone working?"

"No."

"I'll check into that. By the way, perhaps I should have mentioned this earlier, but several members of the military who claim to know you people are coming by to visit."

"You mean Riley's here?," Buffy asks.

"Disaster seems to follow that bloke wherever he goes," Spike jokes. He's not exactly eager about seeing soldier boy.

"I'm not sure about all their names," Stella responds. "The Major vouched for them. I'm assuming you won't mind the visit." By the Major, she means Kelly.

"I suppose we could handle a few houseguests," Xander comments. He's always liked Riley. "When are they stopping by?"

"Right now. As I said before, perhaps I should have told you earlier. Bye."

"You've done a really fine job of furnishing the place, but could you get some blood?," Spike requests. "There's none in here, and if I can't have my animal blood, pretty soon I'll have to start eating my housemates."

"I knew there was something I forgot," Stella replies dismissively. With Giles as her main source on Buffy and her friends, Stella can't help but have a low opinion of Spike. But Giles takes Spike a bit more seriously. He wonders how long Spike could subsist on Andrew's corpse. She gives Giles a quick kiss on the cheek and opens the door to the stairs.

"I'm not joking," Spike assures her. When Stella gets to the surface, Kelly, Riley, Sam and Graham are there to meet her. She swipes her card to open the door for them.

"Who's Riley?," Rona whispers to Amanda.

"I'm not sure." She walks over to Kennedy and asks her. Kennedy gets an answer from Willow and passes it on to Amanda, who walks back to the other four Potentials. "Buffy's ex-boyfriend."

"Is he human?," Rona asks.

"I guess. I don't think they'd let a vampire into the army."

"Buffy dated humans?," Madari whispers in astonishment. "There's the surprise of the day."

"I thought the town getting leveled would be the surprise of the day," Fadila points out.

"Not around here," Ariella adds. The five Potentials giggle.

When he gets to the bottom of the stairs, Riley knocks, Giles presses the button, and the door slides open. Buffy, Xander, Giles and Dawn are standing up. Spike's sitting down, facing the other way. "Things have definitely changed since my last visit," Riley says as he enters. This makes Spike realize why he's glad to see Riley. Spike stands up and walks towards them.

"Mayor Santos really went all out for you guys," Graham mentions as he looks around. "Hey Faith."

"Hey G-man." Faith stands up and walks over to him. "How ya been?"

"Not too bad. And you?"

"I've been worse." Faith looks at Riley and smiles. Sam turns her head. Riley appears to be very uncomfortable. "Hey you. It's been a while. Haven't seen you since, well -"

"It's good that you're, better, and, umm, on good terms with Buffy."

"What can I say? We all move on."

"Riley. Sam. Good to see you two," Xander tells them, trying to end the Faith-based pins-and-needles phase of the conversation.

"Same goes for us," Riley replies. Earlier, Kelly had mentioned that Xander and Anya didn't act like they were married when she visited. Sam and Riley notice the absence of a wedding band. So they avoid asking the uncomfortable "How did the wedding go?" question. The Potentials walk over to check out the new guy. They stand to the left of and slightly behind the Scoobies, staring curiously at him. Riley looks to his right and notices. "These must be the Potential Slayers Kelly told me about."

"And you must be the boyfriend Buffy didn't tell us about," Amanda responds. "Not that we ever asked. So there really was never a chance for her to mention you." Kelly only counts six girls. That's four fewer than two weeks ago. She looks depressed as the meaning of this sinks in. Kelly can only imagine how the girls themselves feel about the high rate of attrition.

"I didn't know the army killed demons," Rona mentions.

"That's kind of how we like it," Graham responds.

"Of course you knew," Fadila says to Rona. "We knew about Kelly."

"I meant that I didn't know guys in the army killed demons. Men killing demons. It's a strange concept."

"That's true," Madari adds.

"Good to know some things haven't changed in Sunnydale," Riley jokes about the preservation of gender roles in the post-apocalyptic setting.

"Well, well, well," Spike says with a smile as he swaggers to within a step of Riley. "If it isn't my favorite doughboy."

"If it isn't my favorite vampire," Riley replies. "I hope you know that's really not saying much."

"I take it the chip-removal was your doing."

"Just a phone call to help a girl I care about."

"Never got to thank you."

"Don't bother."

"Sorry. I think I will." Spike slugs Riley in the face with a right hook, knocking him down. Spike laughs and jumps back as Sam and Graham rush towards him. Kelly steps forward and tries to hold the two of them back.

"Stand down. Sargent. Corporal." They can't believe she's pulling rank on Spike's behalf. The way Kelly sees it, she's also doing the two of them a favor by preventing Spike from hitting them. Since she vastly outranks them, they have no choice but to cool their heels and seethe. Giles and Xander are outraged. Buffy is furious at Spike. He points at Riley as he rises to his feet.

"You've had that coming for a long time, and you bloody well know it." Spike believes he deserves at least one good shot for all the times Riley hit him when he was chipped. He's happy to see he left a bruise on Finn's left cheek.

"Relax Finny," Kelly tells him. Riley's upset at what looks to him like Kelly coming to Spike's defense. "I know from experience that he doesn't hit that hard." She's trying to spin the situation to make holding back appear to be the manly thing to do.

"Don't remember hitting you, love," Spike says to Kelly. "I do recall some grabbing, and a few choice holds," he adds with a grin. Sam and Graham are confused. Kelly told them she tried to kill Spike. They can't understand why he'd act as if he liked it. Riley can.

"The Major's right," Riley responds to Spike. "You're just not worth it. You never were."

"It's the strangest thing," Anya comments. "Bring together men who've dated Buffy, and they turn into six year-olds." Buffy's relieved that someone's finally pricked the testosterone bubble.

"Would you four like to sit down?," Giles asks, playing host and realizing that people who are seated are far less likely to be drawn into brawls by truculent vampires. "I'm sure you've all had a very tiring day. I can get you some coffee if you'd like."

Kelly looks at Sam. "And the amazing thing is, I've also seen seen him drive an ax into a heavily-armed demon's chest."

"Andrew, if you don't mind," Giles suggests.

"We don't have any coffee."

"Then go make some."

"From scratch?"

"I'm not asking you to pick the beans." Andrew pouts and heads off into the kitchen. He wanted to spend more time learning about Buffy's ex.

"You got yourself an orderly," Graham comments. "With a force this large, I can see how that would come in handy."

"Actually, Andrew's a - ," Buffy begins to say. "Never mind."

Sam keeps staring at Xander's left hand. She notices that he notices her noticing. "I'm sorry. I just - "

"It's okay," Xander assures her before knocking the wooden hand twice against the metal coffee table. Riley's completely shocked by this.

"Oh my God. When did this happen?" Kelly hadn't mention anything about anyone losing a hand, since Xander hadn't yet lost it when she visited.

"Last week. Bad guy with a sword."

"I'm sorry."

"These things happen, I guess. Worse things certainly happen."

"I guess," a shaken Riley replies. "Still, no matter how often they happen, you never quite get used to them."

"Have you talked to Lindsey?," Graham asks. "I'm just wondering, since Faith knows him well and, you know, he had the same thing happen to him."

"Actually, yeah. I talked to him last weekend. He was helpful. Seemed like a really nice guy."

"Yeah. He certainly is," Kelly adds. Buffy can't understand how a visit with her ex-boyfriend led to a conversation about Faith's boyfriend, and a fawning one at that.

"Have you seen him sing?," Amanda asks.

"No," Graham responds. Kelly also shakes her head.

"But I hear he's really good," Kelly mentions.

"Oh, he definitely is," Ariella reports. "And I'm not even a fan of the kind of music he plays."

"LIndsey transcends genres," Andrew says as he walks back into the living room and puts a tray with four cups down on the table. Kelly picks up one of them and sips.

"Not bad."

"Thank you. It's freeze-dried, but I do the best I can. Would you like to see the tape I made of Lindsey MacDonald's performance? There's also some footage of Buffy and the Potential Slayers training, as well as Buffy slaying a few vampyres."

Riley, Sam and Graham look with confusion at Andrew. "Long story," Riley comments, remembering what Buffy said. "I suppose it had to be."

Sam notices that Willow isn't quite looking at them. Or anything else. "Willow?," she asks.

"Oh. Yeah. What?"

"Is, is something wrong?"

"I can't see. Bad guys put a blinding spell on me. I'll figure out a way to undo it pretty soon." Xander's missing a hand. Willow's missing her sight. Riley can tell that they really are in trouble. And he really doesn't know where to take the conversation from there. What's left? Asking Buffy about Spike, or Dawn about Connor? It was hard for him to find a topic that he wanted to talk about.

"Dawn," he says to break finally the silence. "It's been a while."

"A year and a couple months."

"You, you've grown. Or, at least, you look taller than I remember."

"Or maybe you're shrinking," she jokes. Riley laughs awkwardly. There are a couple more seconds of dead silence. "By the way, how did you get that scar on your face?" She had wondered about that the last time he came by.

"A vampire scratched me."

"You're lucky that's all she did to you," Graham comments.

"She," Kelly notes. "Pick up the wrong girl in a bar, Finney?"

"Actually, I turned her down. Then she got a little angry."

"When was this?," Buffy asks, worrying that Riley was still getting suck jobs after rejoining the military.

"About two months after I left for Central America. We were in Costa Rica. There was this blonde American vampire posing as a prostitute to lure in victims. She had already killed four of my men. When she went after me, I turned her down, and she got violent. Scratched my face. Tried to bite me. But I fought her off."

"That's not how I remember it," Sam tells her husband.

"You mean he didn't turn her down?," Spike guesses with a smile.

"No. He did. But by the time I got there, she had thrown him through a window and slammed his face into the wall. I ran up and tasered her in the back just as she stuck her fangs into Ry's neck. That got her away from him."

"But before you came, honey, I had gotten in a couple good blows. Almost staked her. You saw her bloody nose, and that bruise under her eye."

"Which reminds me, would you like some ice for your face?," Andrew asks Riley.

"No. I'm fine," he responds, annoyed by the question.

"Because it looks like it's starting to swell."

"I said I'm fine."

"After she backed away and returned to her human face, she did the strangest thing," Sam continues. "She looked me in the eye, pointed at Ry and said He'll leave you in the end. They always do.' And then she fled. We weren't even going out then. We hadn't even thought of going out." Spike's running through some dates in his head. The vampire's modus operandi sounds quite familiar to him.

"Sometimes, when you're evil, you can see things about people that they can't see about themselves," Anya tells them. "That, or she had just had a really bad break up."

"Why did you let her get away?," Buffy asks.

"We didn't," Riley responds. "I rounded up my men and gave chase. She was fast. And hungry. We followed the dead bodies through the villages. I think I counted almost twenty dead. Never seen a vampire eat that much in one night."

"I have," Spike responds cryptically.

"She disappeared into the jungle. Stole some guy's boat and headed down the river to the sea. By morning, we had lost her. After that, the killings stopped. We figured she left the country."

"Would you have rejected this bird if she wus human?," Spike asks Riley.

"Probably."

"She wusn't good enough for you?"

"I wasn't interested. Why do you care?"

"No reason. Just sounded familiar. Blonde. American. Relationship troubles."

Riley laughs. "It wasn't Harmony, of that's what you're thinking."

"It wasn't."

"She was pretty," Sam concedes. "Otherwise, of course, her whole little ploy wouldn't have worked." Spike starts laughing under his breath. No one else can figure out why. Then again, no one else is assuming that maybe this vampire fed so much because she was eating for two. After ten seconds, Spike stops laughing. While it's hilarious to imagine Darla tossing Riley through a window, and ironic to consider that Riley nearly killed Dawn's boyfriend when he was just an embryo, it's depressing to imagine Darla getting turned down by someone as common as Riley. A real violation of the natural order. If anything, she should be turning him down.

It's ten o'clock. Hundreds of guests are crowded into the lobby. Angel sits in a chair in a room on the second floor. "We should have gotten you crutches," Lorne tells him.

"It's only a minute or two. I'll be fine."

"I doubt they'd think any less of you. Just say you had a skiing accident at Aspen. These people don't want you to be their champion. Just their innkeeper."

"What will they think a day or two, when suddenly I'm no longer crippled?"

"And what will they think if you collapse before their eyes? Or, is that why you're doing this? The challenge, the danger, the struggle to overcome pain and adversity. It's your nature, Angel food." Lorne and Angel can hear the loud murmuring downstairs. "Curtain's coming up. I'd tell you to go break a leg, but it already is," Lorne jokes. He helps Angel to his feet and supports him as he moves to the door. Lorne pushes it open, and Angel steps out onto the balcony. Everyone looks up and sees him. He takes four small, painful, but normal-looking, steps before resting his hands on the balcony to help prop himself up. The crowd goes quiet. 

"Good evening. I'm Angel, the owner of this building. As you may have noticed, the Hyperion is not exactly the Hilton. We don't have maid service. There are no mints on the pillows. In fact, this has not been a working hotel for quite a while. I purchased it a few years back when it was up for demolition. Since then, I've worked to restore this place to its former glory. I was planning on opening it for business in six weeks. Obviously, fate had other plans. I know that none of you want to be here. I'm sorry for your losses. What's more, I'm willing to help. To let so much real estate go to waste at a time like this would be obscene. So you are welcome to stay for as long as you need to. In the basement, there are laundry rooms and kitchens that you are welcome to use, free of charge. I know a lot of you have been asking about our rates. That depends on how long you stay. If you're gone by Monday, it won't charge you a cent. After that, it's fifty dollars-a-night through Friday, and a hundred dollars-a-night after that. I would offer you my sympathy, tell you that while it's awful to lose your possessions, you're lucky no harm came to the people you love, but I know I couldn't say anything you haven't already thought. Good night, good luck, and God bless." He was happy to explain the situation while using only one blatant lie. The pricing is designed as an inducement to make the people leave as soon as possible. Angel turns around and walks back through the door. Lorne closes it, and Angel collapses in agony on the bed.

"Should I go out and tell them that Angel has left the building'?," Lorne jokes.

"No, but if you're going for an Elvis thing, how bout some painkillers? But hold off on the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

"And your white rhinestone jumpsuit?"

"I thought that was at the cleaners," Angel jokes before getting serious. "Any more news from Sunnydale? Has Buffy called?"

NEXT: Lindsay arrives in Sunnydale to see Faith. But first he'll have to talk his way past a very skeptical Kate.


	48. In the absence of trust

Lou and Vic, all vamped out, walk south. The Harbor Freeway is on their left, and the harbor is on their right. Vic walks up to the door of an abandoned storage shed and loudly knocks three times. "Housewarming!," he yells out before stepping back. One-by-one six vampires emerge, hoping it's something to eat. They're disappointed to see it's only two of their own kind. Vic takes a quick peek inside before walking back to Lou and standing a few feet to his right. The six vampires stand in a line fifteen feet away. "Looks like you folks are thinking of nesting," Vic tells them.

"So what?," one of the vampires asks.

"I didn't see your name on this lair," another one adds. Vic and Lou laugh.

"Sorry," Lou responds. "We got real cribs. But that's not the point. We ain't mad because you're in this shack. Or because you're at the docks. We're upset because you're in this city."

Lou and Vic hold up their right fists so the vampires can see the branding mark on the backs of their hands. "Vampire wants to live in this city, he's gotta be wearing one of these," Vic explains.

"Very funny," a vampire responds. The six of them laugh.

"Are they refusing to take us seriously?," Vic asks Lou.

"I believe they are," Lou responds before looking back at the new arrivals. "I'm guessin' ya'al are from Sunnydale."

"Then you two should know better than to try to give the six of us the bum rush."

Another one jumps into the conversation. "We've had to deal with the Slayer. You two wannabe playas don't even begin to scare us."

"I'm thinking you haven't dealt with that Slayer," Vic responds. "I'm thinking you ran and hid. You know why?"

Lou answers his question. "Because every Sunnydale vamp who's gone at it with that Slayer ends up dead, or screwed. Either she sticks you, or you stick her. Now you boys ain't dust, and you too ugly to get screwed."

"Only the cowards made it out of that one Blood Bank town," Vic tells them. "That means you fellas are used to running. So do it again. Leave our town, or you'll never get the chance to bite again."

The half-dozen vamps decide to make quick work of these big city braggarts. Lou hits one vampire with a left hook, another with a right roundhouse kick, and a third with a straight left kick to the chin. Vic hits the vampire in front of him with a leaping left kick to the chest. Another vamp comes at him from the right and throws a right hook. Vic ducks, grabs the guy and flips him on his back. A third vampire lands a right cross to his face. Vic blocks a right hook and lands two right jabs and a left uppercut. The vampire staggers backwards but stays on his feet. Vic leaps at him and stakes him. Then he turns and knocks an opponent down with a left reverse kick. Meanwhile, Lou blocks a right hook, ducks a left cross and lands three quick left jabs and a right hook. A vampire comes at him from his left and tries a right hook kick. Lou ducks and sweeps out the vamp's left leg. When he falls on his back, Lou reaches down and stakes him. A third attacker pounds Lou in the back, putting him on his knees. Lou grabs the vampire's left ankle with his left hand and pulls it up in the air, causing the vampire to fall. His other attacker decides to join in the fight against Vic. He's now surrounded by three enemies. But before they can do any damage, Lou runs over and stakes the runaway vampire in the back. Vic smiles. "By now you boys must really be missing Sunnydale."

Lou's one remaining attacker grabs him from behind and tosses him to the ground. Vic carefully watches the vampire in front of him as well as the one behind him. He turns sideways so one is to his left and the other is to his right. The one to his left tries a straight right kick. Vic grabs his foot and spins him in the air. When he falls, his friend lands a left hook kick to the right side of Vic's face. He tries a right roundhouse kick. Vic ducks under it, slides behind the vampire and stakes him in the back before this unfortunate opponent could find him. Twenty feet to Victor's left, Louis rolls along the ground and gets up. His opponent lands a left jab to his nose. He responds with two quick right jabs to the face and a left uppercut to the stomach. Lou follows this up with a whirling right roundhouse kick, knocking the vampire on his back. Lou grabs the guy's shirt with his left hand and takes his stake in his right hand. "Let's get one thing straight," Lou says to his hapless opponent. "We bad. You dust." Lou stakes him. The last vampire runs at Vic, knocks him down with a left clothesline and keeps sprinting north. Vic gets up. He's got four inches on this fellow, and his legs are very long. The vampire doesn't get eighty feet before Vic's tackled and staked him. He walks back to Lou. They do high and low-fives, and are clearly proud of their impressive performance. Then the two of them see a tall, tanned man with a blonde ponytail walking towards them. He wears an expensive blue suit and a gray collarless shirt. The vampires smile and drop their stakes.

"Killing the competition," Clayton says to them as he approaches. "You two have the makings of good monopolists."

"And you have the makings of a good snack," Vic responds. Clayton steps to within six feet of them.

"Two fierce vampires like yourselves. All alone with me on a dark, deserted street. I should be shaking in my Guccis. Do I look like I'm shaking?" Lou and Vic look around, trying to spot an ambush. "I said I was alone. And I am. So you can try to kill me. But that might upset my employer. A little outfit you may have heard of called Wolfram & Hart."

"You want us to work for you?," Vic asks.

"I'd like you to let me work for you."

"And we'd do this why?," Lou wonders. "So your winning ways can rub off on us?" Lou and Vic laugh. Wolfram & Hart's image has taken a serious beating since Angel came to town.

"Like a ballplayer leaving the Yankees and joining the Red Sox so he can win a World Series," Vic adds.

"You think we're stupid?," Lou asks Clayton.

"No. I think you're alone. With Mal gone, the two of you are technically in charge. But the captains have all the vampires. They rebel, and you have no forces of your own for putting them down. Where's your power base?"

"We have all the money," Lou tells him.

"The gangs, the clubs, they pay you – for now, at least. But what if the capos try to take over the rackets in their territory? Who are the humans going to be afraid of - the two of you halfway across town, or fifty vampires right in their neighborhood? Right now, you're just figureheads surviving on reputation. Pretty soon, someone is going to challenge that reputation. Then someone else. It can crumble very fast. Unless you have leverage. And that, gentlemen, is what I am offering."

"Doesn't make sense," Vic responds. "They want a bigger take, why don't they just move to another city?"

"Colonization will delay a civil war, but it won't prevent it. Say half your men leave for greener pastures. That still leaves two hundred and fifty vampires, with five captains, each one trying to grab a little bit more to make his men happy. And God forbid they unite behind a single leader. Then the two of your are obsolete."

"A captain's just popular with his own vampires," Lou explains. "We got fans in all the crews. No way one of them can blow up bigger than either of us."

"Unless he had help."

"Is that a threat?," Vic queries. Both of them growl at Clayton.

"More like a warning. Wolfram & Hart has enough resources to put any one of your underlings over the top. We came to you first. We will go to them next. And if one, if just one out of ten says yes, the two of you will be seriously compromised. Let me help you. I like to work for the best. You say no, I won't have that chance. And then we all lose." Clayton flicks a business card at Vic, then one at Lou. They snatch them out of the air. He turns around and calmly walks away. The two vampire watch Clay head south. Then they inspect the cards.

"Looks legit to me," Vic tells Lou.

"Then I guess it wouldn't do us any good to kill him. I thought that Devil Demon killed everyone over there."

"No. Just turned them into zombies. And he undid it when he left the building. Most of them survived. As long as they kept their heads."

"How do you know so much?," Lou asks suspiciously.

"Got a friend who works in accounting."

"A vampire friend?"

"Yeah. He was a C.P.A. before he got sired. Started working for them afterwards. They're quite understanding of his particular disability."

"A vampire with a day job. That's lame."

"He likes the good life. Big apartment. Nice clothes. Lakers tickets. And he's not very tough. Without his job, he'd be a mid-level minion squatting in an abandoned building."

"Did he turn into a zombie? I don't see how that's possible."

"It's not. But he hid in an air shaft, just in case super-demon wanted to crush his neck and turn him into dust."

"Can your friend tell us anything about this guy?"

"Probably not. Each department is like a separate fiefdom. I doubt he knows any lawyers." The two of them walk north.

"I can't believe this," Louis declares. "Either you're with us, or we'll be against you. And it's probably not just a bluff."

"It's a Prisoner's Dilemma," Victor concludes.

"Say what? We ain't nobody's prisoners."

"It's a term from Game Theory."

"That one of those fancy things you learned in college?"

"Yes. But it's not fancy. Just common sense, really. Imagine two guys get arrested. The police put them in separate rooms. Now the cops got no evidence on either of them. But they think they're both guilty. Only way they can get a conviction is to make one of them talk. Neither guy confesses, they both walk. One guy confesses, he gets five years and the other guy gets twenty. They both confess, and they both get ten. What happens?"

"Depends how much they trust each other."

"Exactly. If you know your partner's not talking, then you don't talk. But if you have doubts, you squeal. Because if he squeals, and you don't, you're going away for a long time."

"That's how this lawyer thinks he'll work us."

"Looks that way. If everyone turns him down, we're all better off. But if someone says yes, that guy ultimately suffers, but we get hurt a lot more."

"So we say yes to make sure no one else can say yes. Even though we know it's gonna cut into our business."

"Think of it as insurance."

"Everyone's ripping off someone," Lou laments. He receives protection money from people to keep them safe from the lower-level vampires, and now this lawyer wants the equivalent of protection money – to keep Lou and Vic safe from those very same vampires.

"I don't see what's wrong with giving a little money away," Vic responds. "It's not as if we really earned it." The two of them laugh. Obviously, Wolfram & Hart have no need for their petty cash. But the firm will extract some sort of price.

Graham's talking with Faith. Sam's chatting with Xander, Anya and Dawn. Kelly talks with Giles and Spike. And Buffy's in her room with Riley.

"You seem better," he tells her. "I know how stupid that sounds, on account of everything falling apart around you. But you do."

"Circle of life. Something's always falling to pieces. RIght now, it's the town. Lucky me," she adds with a tinge of dark sarcasm.

"I can tell things have been tough for you and your friends."

"Things are always tough."

"I know. But you always have a way of coming out of top, no matter what they throw at you."

"Obviously you haven't met Nina."

"I remember Glory."

"This time, the big bad girl doesn't want to do any fancy rituals. Or feed off people's sanity. She just wants to kill all of us."

"A hired assassin."

"One who really loves to get her hands dirty."

"So she has no personal stake in this? No burning motivation?"

"No. She lived through an apocalypse. She saw her family die. Now, she just goes from world to world, making everyone suffer like she did. Making us feel her pain. Empathy in the name of evil."

"I meant, she has no one to fight for. Not even herself. I know how important it is to have someone to fight for."

"What she lacks in motivation she more than makes up for in indestructibility."

"Adam was indestructible once."

"He wouldn't have been if he met Nina."

"So what? It's not about power."

"You really have been gone a long time," Buffy responds to this ridiculous-sounding statement.

"Some things never change. Like your greatness. You don't win because of how hard you hit. You win because of your heart. Slayers all get the same strength. There's a reason you're special. Why you're better than the rest of them. And it's got nothing to do with brute force."

Buffy pauses for a few seconds, the looks stunned. "That's just what Angel said."

"Ouch. That cuts deep."

"I didn't mean it as an insult."

"Oh. Then it cuts even deeper."

"Course, if two people who are that different both come to the same conclusion, I suppose it has to be some truth to it."

"How are you and Faith getting along?"

"So that's how it works. I make you wig out, you return the favor?"

"I'm serious. Last time you two got together, she tried to steal your life. Wouldn't blame you if you didn't exactly welcome her back with open arms."

"Time, and the fact that right now I need all the help I can get, went a long way to healing those old wounds. Plus, we have a lot in common. Like a whole bunch of really scary mortal enemies."

"War does make strange bedfellows."

"Let's not go completely over the edge."

"I meant it as a metaphor."

"I-I know. But you could have picked one with a little less in the way of scary imagery." Both of them really want to switch gears. "So," Buffy says before talking a deep breath. "How are you and Sam doing?"

"We're doing good. Constant traveling and frequent near-death situations help keep the spark in our romance. I guess I shouldn't tout our marital bliss too much."

"No, no. I don't mind. I'm glad you're happy. Right now, I really don't feel the need for a relationship. I have too much else to worry about."

"I noticed. So you and Spike aren't -? . . . Not that it's any of my business to ask. Forget about it. I should probably be going back out there to see how Sam's doing. It was great talking to you, Buffy. It always is. Remember what a said. About your heart. Something tells me that's how you'll win this one."

"As long as she doesn't rip it out first." That causes Riley to stop and shudder before leaving the room. Buffy emerges a few seconds later. Spike's chatting up Kelly about her fights with Angelus and his crew.

"You put it in his mouth? Bloody brilliant! Pity I couldn't be there to see that."

"Think of it this way, Spike. If you had tried to bite me, maybe you could have lived it." This brings a smile to Giles's face. And a grin to Spike's. To him, this sort of banter qualifies as flirting.

"An Oscan Bulla," Giles says, referring to what Angelus was wearing to prevent ensoulment. "Is that what you took away from him?"

"That's what Wesley called it. Have you talked to him, lately?" Naturally, Kelly wanted to focus on her boyfriend, someone neither Spike nor Giles wanted to chat about.

"A few times. He keeps me abreast of developments in Los Angeles that could have ramifications in Sunnydale. But we really aren't close. Never were, in fact." This was his way of steering her away from quizzing him about Wesley. "Now an Oscan Bulla was considered to be an exceptionally rare item even in Roman Imperial times. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to find one in this day and age. Did Angel mention how he procured the item?"

"I don't know. Guess you'd have to ask Wesley." With everything else that was going on, Wesley forgot to ask. So no one else knows that it came from Wolfram & Hart. Clearly, Rupert is right to wonder about its provenance. Riley comes up to Kelly. She looks at her watch. "Hey, it's been great, but we gotta go."

Graham had been talking to Faith about Angel's friends, since they'd both worked with the three of them.

"I had no idea Wesley was such a loser," Graham tells her. "Hard to imagine him as the type who'd scream and cower in the face of danger."

"My take is, once he stopped being a Watcher, he had to learn how to stick up for himself. Couldn't hide behind chicks anymore."

"He could always hide behind Fred," Graham jokes.

"Not if he wants to impress her."

"You mean he likes her?"

"He did. I got the idea Gunn and the two of them had something of love triangle goin' on."

"They dated her?"

"Just Gunn. She never went for Wes."

"Are they still going out? Because they didn't seem very together when I was with them."

"They were history before I got there. Why do you care?" Faith grins. "You got the hots for her!"

Graham looks around nervously. "Faith, keep it down. I just think, you know, she's an amazing woman. Fights demons. But without your strength. Or my weapons."

"Graham's got a crush."

"It's not like that. I was only curious because, well, Fred's a beautiful woman, and all the beautiful women I know are with someone. Like how you're with Lindsey."

"That's sweet," Faith replies with a smile. He knew he could charm her into switching the subject. "From the looks of it, I would never have guessed that you're such a sensitive guy."

This makes Graham embarrassed. "Oh. You meant that as a good thing. Just don't go spreading the word."

"You know Buffy, don't know?,"

"Yeah. Why?"

"She doesn't have a boyfriend."

"So?"

"So, you said that none of the hot chicks you know are single and -," Faith stops talking and laughs. "I swear, if it wasn't for Lindsey, I'd just throw you onto my bed right now." She pats him on the shoulder. "It's been great talking to you, Graham."

"Yeah. Same here," a breathless Graham responds before joining the others – once his knees stop buckling. A complete lack of interest in Buffy is definitely one of Faith's bigger turn-ons. As the four of them say goodbye, and Spike asks Kelly to check into the blood situation for him, Andrew picks up the phone. For the first time, there is a dial tone.

"It's working!," he announces. Dawn runs over and yanks it out of his hand. "Hey!!"

"Come on, Andrew. Who were you going to call?"

"And who would you be calling?," Anya asks rhetorical. "Let me take one guess."

"I'm going to try to call Kit. And Carlos. They just got kicked out of their homes. I'm sure they're pretty freaked. And in need of explanation."

"Nice try," Faith says before walking up and grabbing the receiver. Dawn refuses to let go.

"Buffy!," Dawn whines.

"You're a big girl now. Use the taser," she casually replies without turning around. Faith's not quite sure if Buffy's joking. Giles comes over to settle the dispute.

"The two of you are acting like small children." They both put the phone down. "Besides, I need to call Europe to explain today's events to the rest of the Council."

"You're not just making that up so you can call your girlfriend?," Dawns asks him.

"Some of us have business to attend to."

Riley shakes Xander's hand and hugs Willow. "I'm sure you'll find how to beat that spell in no time," he assures her.

"Like the decryption I did back in my hacking days. Give me enough time, I'll figure it out."

"What's going on with them?," Riley asks regarding Dawn and Faith.

"Nothing serious. Sounds to me like they're fighting over who gets to call their boyfriend first." The allusion to Dawn's boyfriend was more-than-enough to send Riley on his way.

"Here's my number. I'll be around for a couple days. If there's anything you need me to requisition, just ask.

"How bout blood?," Spike asks. Riley frowns. "I don't mean the human kind."

"Jeeps, radios, photon guns, mobile field artillery."

"I think a few howitzers might come in handy," Xander half-jokes. The visitors leave.

"There they go," Spike announces. "The four soldiers of the apocalypse."

"Isn't it already tomorrow morning in Europe?," Faith asks Giles.

"Yes. It's four a.m. in London. Five o'clock in Paris."

"Wait until they're awake. I don't think they'd mind. But Lindsey – when this town got flattened, Lindsey was in the air, flying here. So I think he needs answers first."

"Lindsey was planning on visiting you this weekend? You didn't tell me that."

"I was going to say something this morning, but we were kinda busy.

"I know how you feel about Lindsey, but right now we're rather busy."

"Me seeing him won't get in the way of that. He's just here for tonight."

"Talk about bad timing," Dawn comments, with some empathy.

With the Sunnydale airport completely destroyed, and the military controlling all airspace within a fifteen mile radius, Lindsey lands at the nearest working airport, which is in Tangair, twenty five miles up the coast from Sunnydale. Still unable to reach Faith, he drives inland to Lompoc, fifteen miles due north from Sunnydale. It's the closest large town, and, along with Solvang twenty miles down 246-east, the main destination for fleeing Sunnydale residents. It's between these two towns that the military has established its main cordon, cutting off access from highways 1 and 101. The state police man the front lines and deal directly with the people while the soldiers remain a discrete distance behind. Now that the phone works, Faith is able to get through to him.

"Lindsey. Damn, it's good to hear your voice."

"Faith, where are you?"

"In town. Underground. We're the only ones who got to stay."

"Doesn't look like it will be easy for me to come to you."

"I can get someone to drive me out. Where are you?"

"I'm not sure." Lindsey asks around. "Lompoc. It's a little ways north from you. I'm guessing there are a few hundred cops and I don't know how many soldiers keeping us apart."

"Sounds like the doorman won't let you through the velvet rope. Good thing you got connections."

"Doubtful. Most of my guys are ex-military. But to get to them, I'd have to get by the police, and my connections are no good with them."

"Maybe mine are. This bunker we're in – it's the Mayor's. She brought us here. And we both know at least a couple of the soldiers. Graham and Kel are here."

Lindsey smiles. "That's great. I'll see if I can contact them."

"Instead of you breaking in, I could always bust out."

"The roads are probably blocked with downed trees. I'm sure a bridge or two buckled under. You won't make it without a truck."

"Okay, so you call Kel, and I'll see what I can do about getting the Mayor. Shouldn't be too hard. She's dating my Watcher."

"I thought he was with Kelly."

"I mean the other Watcher." Wes and Stella – now there was a scary thought. Lindsey knows several of Kelly's and Graham's semi-classified phone numbers, and hopefully one of them would be active. He knew from experience that Kelly was the more casual of the two, and thus more likely to be reached by civilians while on duty. Her phone rings a couple minutes after they left the bunker. Graham's driving, Kelly rides shotgun, and Sam and Riley sit in back. At first she thinks it's Wesley. Then she sees the number on her screen.

"Lindsey? Is that you?"

"Guess where I am, Kelly?"

"Same state as me, I'm guessing. Probably the same area code. Which means you came here to see Faith. And that you're on the other side of the lines."

"You're good."

"Isn't that why you hire me?"

"I'm hoping you can do this one pro bono."

"No sweat. I'm third in the chain of command. Consider it done."

"This is why I love the Law," Lindsey jokes about the extensive and unusual web of influence he's spun over the years. "Tell Graham hi."

"Will do. First, where are you?"

"Lompoc."

"That's on the west flank. Get to the gate at Santa Rosa road." They both hang up.

"What was that about?," Graham asks Kelly.

"Turn around. Lindsey needs a favor." Giles is talking with Claude. A beep signals that he has another call. He takes it.

"You're coming back? For Faith. Excuse me. Claude? Claude, I'll call you back."

"Something about me?," Faith asks.

"That was Kelly. She proposes taking you to Lindsey. I'm not sure if that's a wise course of action."

"Got nothing else to do."

"It exposes you to Nina."

"We were exposed to her this afternoon. Hell, we're exposed to her right now. Face it – the lady's clearly taking the day off."

"We both know I can't stop you."

"What about a Buffy reinforcement? Right. She wouldn't bother. Cause she's not worried. That settles it. Be back by nine."

"Wait. It's 8:30. Oh."

"You catch on fast. Is that not early enough? Nina doesn't seem like much of an early bird."

Giles doesn't like the idea of one of his Slayers being separated from the group for an entire night. "He's welcome to stay here."

Faith laughs. "Are you serious? Hold on. You are. Because you're all the way on the other side. But something tells me Buffy would mind. These walls aren't exactly that thick."

"I see your point. I allow him in, I'm being slightly cruel to Buffy. I refuse to let you out, I'm being even more cruel to you."

"Sounds like we're five by five. Night." Faith walks out the door and up to the surface, where she meets the soldiers and looks at their Humvee. "This is so cool. I got the army pimping for me."

"There's room in back," Graham tells her. Riley sits on the left side, and Sam on the right. Faith climbs over Sam and sits in the middle. Riley looks a little nervous, sitting thigh-to-thigh with Faith. She notices.

"Sorry. Wouldn't want to get between you and your girl." Faith and Sam switch places.

When Lindsey arrives at the roadblock across Santa Rosa Road, he looks down at the floor and shakes his head. The officer in charge of the gate is none other than Kate Lockley. Everyone else has accepted that they're not getting through, so Lindsey's alone at the gate. Kate's facing the other way, talking to some other officers. They tell her she has a gentleman caller. Kate turns around and sees Lindsey twenty feet in front of her. She shakes her head in disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Long time, no see."

"And I liked it that way. Can't imagine why you'd want to get closer to what's left of Sunnydale. Looking for one of those Beyond the Law' creatures? I hear that town had a lot of those. Not many lawyers, though."

"I'm meeting someone."

"From the inside? Sorry. None of your kind left."

"That would be unfortunate. I figure a town like Sunnydale could use a few good guys."

"You really are a piece of work."

"Won't deny that. But you should know that I left Wolfram & Hart more than two years ago."

"And now you're atoning for your sins? Gosh, where have I heard that one before?"

Lindsey laughs, trying to make light of Kate's hostility, as well as her insinuation that he's an Angel wannabe. "I'm just not gonna win with you, am I?"

"You want my trust? Earn it." Kate walks away. Her phone rings. It's Stella. She explains about Faith.

"Who paroles a murderer after three years?" 

"I know," Stella agrees. "I was as shocked as you when I found out. Probably more shocked, since I found out by seeing her in my town. I can't say I know this Lindsey fellow, though."

"Evil scum pretty boy lawyer. Claims to have turned over a new leaf."

"Doesn't everybody?," Stella asks, matching Kate's skepticism.

"New leaf or not, he's obviously still working the system."

"It may be my town, but it's the military's call. Nothing I can do about it. Just pretend it doesn't bother you. Better not to give them the satisfaction. Turnabout isn't always fair play."

Kate hangs up and walks back over to Lindsey. She's decided to highlight an irony that Lindsey might not want to remember. "Tell me Lindsey, does she know that you tried to sell her out?"

"She always knew I was against Angel."

"That wasn't what I asked, counselor."

"No, I think it was. Faith understood that when she joined Angel, she became Wolfram & Hart's enemy."

"Which, considering how your law firm operated, meant that she would assume you'd be trying to kill her. I doubt she suspected that you would come to me."

"And neither of us suspected that she would come to you as well."

"I guess there are some things a murderer can fear more than prison."

"Like the corroding of their soul."

Kate laughs. "I meant someone, or many someones, trying to kill them. Were you the one who sprung her loose?"

"I'm afraid I can't claim credit for that."

"So that's not how you got her."

"Why are you so interested?," Lindsey asks with a sly smile.

"Trust. That thing you have yet to earn from me."

"In fairness, I've only had ten minutes."

"How long did it take you to earn her trust? Or, was she just lonely after a couple years in the clink?"

"No. It took some time. More than we'll ever have."

"One can hope." Having answered Lindsey's snide remark with one of her own, Kate was done having her fun. She turns and sees the humvee drive up. The four soldiers get out with Faith. Kelly begins the formalities.

"We have authorization to – "

"Save your breath. The Mayor already filled me in."

"A lady who cuts to the chase. I like that," Kelly tells Kate with a smile.

Faith sees Kate, and immediately she gets nervous. And confused. This was a long way from Los Angeles. "What are you doing here?," Faith asks.

"My job," Kate replies. "What are you doing here?"

"My job."

"Good luck with that."

"You too." Faith walks through the roadblock and meets Lindsey. The soldiers head back to their base, and Kate returns to dealing with the locals.

She isn't the only woman at work on this night. Nina walks in her black boots over the flooded ground around the wreckage of the high school. She's inspecting her latest allies. And these are the strangest-looking ones yet. There are seventy two men, lined up in twelve neat files of six men. Each of them is four feet, nine inches tall. They wear hoodless black robes with a rope belt, and go barefoot in the swamp-like conditions. Their faces are distinctive because they are feature-less. No mouth, nose, eyes or ears. Just pale skin over a skull with the jaw bone fused shut. Their large brains fill the entirety of their tiny heads. As she looks them over, Nina whistles the tune to "Heigh ho, heigh ho."

"They've sent me some weird helpers over the eons, but this time they've really outdone themselves. Why am I talking to you? You can't hear me. No, don't tell me. Let me guess this one," she kids. "When I talk, you can hear my mind thinking what I'm saying. Or something to that effect. You know your jobs. Now do them. I can't start until you're finished." The faceless men immediately spread out and begin scavenging building supplies. Nina walks away, looking disappointed. "Why do I always end up hanging out with freaks?"


	49. The Morning After

After Giles finished talking to Claude Marcel, Dawn was finally able to call Connor. When he hung up, Connor just lay back in bed, smiled and looked at the ceiling.

"Well?," Angel asks after ten seconds of absurd silence.

"Everyone's fine. They're underground. Old people left in town."

"Where underground?"

"An underground house. Dawn said it belongs to Giles's girlfriend. I didn't know he had a girlfriend."

"Neither did I." For Angel, the words "Giles" and "girlfriend" in the same sentence bring back unwelcome memories of killing Jenny Calendar.

"She had a prophecy. Not like Dawn's. Some family thing. But that's why they got everyone out. She knew the town was about to blow up."

"A vision?"

"No. I told you it wasn't like Dawn's. But Dawn did have a vision."

"Just now?"

"In the afternoon."

"Oh no. We might be too late to help."

"It was about Sunnydale. She said that after the earthquake, the town was already destroyed. Everyone thought it was over and they were walking around outside. Then she saw the wave and knew something else was coming. She told Buffy, and everyone got back inside in time. Because of Dawn." Connor smiles. "And me, I guess."

"Why would the Powers send her a vision that's not meant to help us?," Angel wonders. This would set something of a precedent. Connor doesn't quite see it that way.

"Buffy not dying helps us. Okay, it helps you." Angel frowns. "And what about Faith? Or Willow? They've helped us. Letting 'em all get crushed by some wave would be pretty lame."

"The Powers have never lifted a finger to help Buffy," Angel notes bitterly, remembering how she died when he was in Pylea.

"She can't fight the ocean."

Angel finds this cryptic, even by Connor's standards. "Have you been reading by books on eastern philosophy?"

Connor doesn't know why Angel can't understand him. "She fights demons. A snake wants to swallow her, she can kill it. But if the ocean wants to swallow her, she's helpless. Slayers are warriors. There supposed to go down fighting. Wouldn't be fair to let the water kill her. Don't you think?"

"I suppose. Although it would be the first time that fairness played a role in Buffy's life."

"Please," Connor replies dismissively. "Like she's had it so hard." Angel's about to respond to Connor's insensitivity, but thinks better of getting into a debate about hard-knock lives with Connor. Meanwhile, Dawn slowly walks back to the couch and sits down. Something is clearly on her mind.

"What's wrong?," Buffy asks.

"Nothing's wrong."

"That boy must have said something."

"You're not going to believe this."

"Try us," Xander replies. "At this point, what could possibly shock us?"

"You know how Angel lives in a hotel? It's filled up. Completely filled up. With people from Sunnydale."

"That was a nice thing for Angel to do," Giles comments approvingly. "Aiding people in their time of utmost need."

"Is he charging them?," Anya asks.

"Angel would never do that," Willow insists.

"For now, he's not," Dawn responds. "Cordelia wants to."

"No surprise there," Buffy adds.

"So do some of the others," Dawn continues. "Connor said Angel's thinking about making them pay if they stay for a long time. This took all of them by surprise."

"It took everyone by surprise," Giles points out. "Except, of course, for Stella," he notes with a smile.

Spike starts chuckling. "Poor Angel. Sharing his home with complete strangers. This is his worst nightmare. He'll be back to living underground in no time."

"How many people are we talking about?," Buffy asks.

"About half my grade," Dawn meekly answers. "Plus their families. Connor said more than five hundred people."

"Angel's must be going out of his bloody mind," Spike gleefully assumes.

"Five hundred!," Buffy exclaims. "How big is this place?"

"About half a city block," Xander informs her. "Five stories. Two very extensive basement levels. Angel owes me big time. Building was a disaster area before I fixed it up."

"That's true," Anya adds in agreement. "If that lobby still looked like it did when I saw it, no one would be staying there. The people would have run away screaming." Willow nods, remembering the extent of the damage she and Cordy caused.

"But that's wut Angel would've wanted," Spike observes. "Xander, you didn't do him a favor. You just helped make his life even more miserable than it already was."

"And I provided shelter to hundreds of people without homes. Which makes it a win-win situation from where I sit."

"Plus, you got paid," Anya recalls.

"Even better."

"Why did they all go to Angel's?," Buffy wonders. "How did they even know where he lived? Everyone looks at Dawn.

"Me? Why me?"

"You went to school with them," Buffy points out.

"You're right. Of course it was me. Once I heard the town was getting flattened, I spent all morning on the phone with my friends. All of you saw me doing it. Right around the time the phones weren't working."

"Point taken," Giles concedes. "Though I could have done with a tad less sarcasm."

"Then who was it?," Buffy asks. "Who else knew?"

"Elijah knew," Spike responds, to everyone's surprise. "He's a nice kid. We chatted last week about a trip he took up there."

"Why are you hanging around with my sister's friends?," a worried Buffy demands to know.

"I'm stuck in the house when the sun's out. The boy comes over and starts talking me up. Is that my fault? Would you rather have me bite him?"

"Eli thinks Spike's cool," Dawn explains with a scowl. "I'm sure it's just a phase."

"So it's his fault," Buffy concludes. "I didn't know Eli had that many friends."

"He just told Kit. She just told Carlos. He just told Denise."

"Ahhh, the classic high school phone tree," Xander observes. "The same way everyone knows which kid's throwing a party on Friday night because his parents are out of town."

"Is Preston there?," Amanda asks Dawn.

"What about Clarence?," Rona wonders.

"And Prashant?," Madari chimes in.

"Connor said they're all there. He's pretty happy that Kit and Eli and the rest of his friends are around."

"There's a rest of?," Xander asks with astonishment. "I guess Connor has better social skills than his words, actions or personality would lead you to believe."

"It's like one big dorm," Willow realizes. "With high school kids. And a vampire, his son, and their demon-fighting friends."

"What could possibly go wrong?," Giles asks rhetorically.

"Less than you'd expect," Spike counters. "The place is demon-proofed. Thanks to me. I went to all that trouble to protect the house. For two weeks!"

"Poor you. All that orgying for nothing," Anya quips.

"Where to?," Faith asks Lindsey as he drives out of Lompoc.

"I was thinking breakfast on the coast. The Gulf Coast. I know a nice place south of the border, near Veracruz."

"Seriously, Lindsey."

"I am serious. The omelettes are great. And the mangoes are literally right off the tree."

"Quit joking. You know I only got tonight."

"That's why we're taking the jet. Things go according to plan, we'll be able to touch down for an hour and still get you back by nine."

"You are serious."

"I sort of neglected to find a place to stay for the night. Which makes this kind of our only option. And since if we're gonna be stuck in a plane, we might as well go somewhere. Seemed like a good idea when I thought it up."

"Taking me for a spin in your jet. Do you do this to impress all your girlfriends?"

"Of course. Which would make you the first. Let me know if it works, for future reference," he adds jokingly.

Faith looks up and laughs in disbelief. "I just came from a bunker in a town that doesn't exist anymore. But was full of people and buildings yesterday. And I'll wake up tomorrow in another country."

"Wake up? Who said anything about going to sleep?"

"Has it only been two weeks? Cause, by now, it feels like you're from another lifetime. The one in my dreams that's too good to be true."

"I figured you'd be used to surprises by now."

"Not the good kind."

"You ever been to Mexico before?"

"Almost. Back when I wanted to run away from my problems."

"What stopped you?"

"Didn't have anyone to run away with."

"I can't take this anymore," Lorne confides to Angel after helping him return to his room. "I'm not going to live as a prisoner in my own house. In your house, I mean"

"So you're heading back to your apartment. I understand."

"Spoken like a true non-empath. I'm going downstairs. I'm walking through the lobby. Or, wherever else I please. And if your uninvited visitors don't like it, that's their problem."

"Please tell me you're not serious."

"Serious as a heart attack. Which, to a guy with your heart condition, must mean absolutely nothing. Let me put it to you this way. I've been around humans for a long time. And the sight of my face has never caused them to run away screaming. I'm not the Elephant Man. Heck, I'm not even Michael Jackson. Trust me. They'll hardly notice. These people already got enough on their minds. Seeing me would hardly be the weirdest thing that's happened to them today."

"When Cordy came back without her memory, we learned how hard it was to hide what goes on in this place. Which is one of the reasons I would have done more to turn these people away, get them rooms in real hotels. If I were healthy."

"That's right. You can't stop me. Thanks for reminding me, chief." Lorne walks to the door.

"Lorne, wait. It's fine if you come as go like you always do. But try not to make a scene."

"A scene? Moi? Hey, I hate being set upon by an angry mob as much as the next guy. Okay, probably more so, considering how the next guy has the power to fight them off. No trouble. Hey, you know me – always riding the waves, never making them." Lorne leaves. A few seconds later, Cordy enters.

"The place is finally starting to quiet down. And get this – a lot of the girls know who I am. I actually was a legend in Sunnydale! In a good way. Not the bad, I killed someone's family sort of way that you're used to. By the way, I passed by Lorne when I got off the elevator. Is he going downstairs to get you more blood?"

"Lorne's decided to make an appearance in the lobby."

"But there are still a lot of people down there."

"I think that was the idea." Cordy looks quite alarmed.

"And you let him?"

"How was I going to stop him?" Cordelia rushes downstairs. When Lorne enters the lobby, there are about twenty teenagers and a dozen adults talking to each other in groups of two or three or four. Lorne holds his head high and struts by them, proudly and slowly. Almost immediately, heads start to turn. He can hear the whispering. Lorne speeds up. Soon, there's pointing. Lorne climbs the steps and is reaching for the door, relieved that this ordeal is over, when two teenage girls rush up to him. One of them touches his right arm.

"Excuse me," she says. Lorne warily turns his head to the right to look at them. "Are you a singer?"

Expecting a vastly different question, Lorne takes several seconds to respond. "Why yes. Yes I am."

"Were you at the Bronze – in Sunnydale – last month?"

Lorne smiles and turns to face them. "You saw my performance? Well, it was more of a cameo." As Lorne waxes falsely modest, the two girls run away. They return with a few more kids, and their parents. The elevator door opens, and Cordy gets out. On the other side of the lobby, she sees a crowd of people rushing towards Lorne. She ducks into the office, where Wesley and Fred are at the computer, trying to put together a spread sheet to keep track of all this new business.

"We have a big problem," she informs them.

"You mean the acute shortage of towels?," Wesley asks.

"Lorne's come out."

"I thought he was straight," Fred responds. "Especially after he told us about his thing for Vengeance Demons."

"And their blood larva," Wesley adds.

"No. That's not what I meant. He's in the lobby! Getting attacked by people. Blood larva?"

"The demons cost coat their bodies with it," Wesley explains.

"Can we forget about blood larva for now?," Fred pleads.

"Gladly," Wesley concurs.

"We need to save him," Cordy beseeches them. "Sunnydale people aren't used to cuddly demons." The three of them rush to the door. Then Wesley stops.

"Hold on. They can't harm him in here."

Cordy opens the door and looks across the room. All she sees are the backs of the heads of more and more people rushing forward – and through the front door. "What about the courtyard?," she asks.

"That ain't covered," Fred replies. The three of them hurry over to help him, but can't get through the mob. "They don't sound angry," Fred notes.

Wesley gets on the tiptoes of his good foot and peers over their heads. "I see Lorne. He's laughing."

Cordy listens carefully to the noises. "I don't believe it." She heads back inside, followed by Fred and Wes. "He's a celebrity. Green skin, horns, dated fashion sense. How does he get to be a star and I don't?"

"I don't know," Fred offers meekly. "Maybe because he's a better singer?"

"Yes," Cordy concedes. "If you're living in some Bizarro-L.A. where talent matters more than looks." She pauses. "How would they know he can sing?"

Angel wakes up in a strange, cold place. "Oh no. Not again." He's sitting on a white marble floor. In front of him are a familiar-looking man and woman with silver skin and wearing classical garb. He stands up. "Been a while. I usually come to you." Angel stands up.

"And I usually do not," replies a third man who walks into the room. He's much older than the other two. His skin is gold and his hair and long beard are a shiny silver. He stares at Angel with his pale blue eyes.

"You know what happened to last guy who abducted me? Course you do. That's your job."

"We expected you to come here of your own accord seven nights ago," the old man tells Angel. "Someone got in the way."

"That was the least of his crimes."

"Why did you leave your room that night? I trust you had a reason for running into the street."

"He had someone put a spell on me. To lure me outside so he could ambush me. It made me feel like, well, almost like I was losing my soul. But it was only a trick."

"No it wasn't." Now Angel looks very confused. "The vampire did nothing to you. But he knew about it in advance. He had connections, and he exploited them to catch you by surprise." The old man shakes his head. "It's almost impossible to plug every leak."

"Can we get on with this?," a cranky Angel suggests. "I'm sure that speaking with you is a rare honor, but I'm really not in the mood for oracular filler. You brought me here for a reason. Cut to the chase."

"Something did happen to your soul that night. It lost its curse."

Overwhelmed by this claim, Angel takes a few seconds to let it sink in. "Would you mind repeating that?"

"Situations change. With the passage of time, certain circumstances become untenable."

"That's not possible. You can't - "

"You know what we can do. This is nothing."

"And why should I believe you? You're not exactly in the habit of doing me favors. Screwing me over, on the other hand."

"Think of this as our apology. A way of balancing the scales."

"That doesn't even begin to make sense. And you didn't answer my question. A skeptic might say you're trying to trick me. We both know what happens if I make the mistake of believing you."

"That would be a rather transparent trick. One I know you to be too smart to fall for."

"Cheap flattery aside, you still haven't given me an answer."

"Have we ever lied to you? That is our answer."

"You're going to have to do better."

"It is not my job to convince. Only to tell."

The old man reaches out and puts his right thumb to Angel's forehead. He exhales, blowing a foggy mist onto Angel's face. It causes his eyelids to shut, and he goes back to sleep.

The rooming arrangements in the back half of the bunker are as follows: Fadila, Ariella, Madari and Rona are in the room on the far left. Twenty by fifteen feet, and with four beds, it's by far the best accommodations any of them has had in months. Next to them are Amanda and Dawn. Giles and Andrew are in the center room, across from the two bathrooms. On the near right are Xander and Anya (in separate beds), and on the far right are Willow and Kennedy (not in separate beds). Spike's claimed the small Santos family shelter for his crypt. Buffy didn't sleep well. Neither did Giles. Both of them are up early. Giles takes advantage of the peace and quiet and does his research in the empty living room. At 8:30, Buffy, who's already been up for two hours and is very bored, checks in on Spike. He hears the metal door shut and wakes up. "Buffy. Is something wrong?"

"Yes. But nothing new."

"Then why did you wake me?"

"I dunno. Guess I felt lonely." Spike's sitting up in bed. He's naked, with a sheet covering the lower half of his body.

"This isn't exactly the best timing, but if you're game," he says with a sly grin. She knows he's joking, and sits down on the other bed.

"Sorry. The Potentials might wake up, wonder where I am."

"Wouldn't want to traumatize the kiddies. Is that it?" There's a few seconds pause.

"So. How'd you sleep?"

"Okay. Till you woke me. You?"

"No. Too worried."

"Why? You know what's next. Big set-piece battle. You try a few new tricks. Hopefully one of them works before we're all dead."

"To you, it's like a coin-flip. A roll of the dice. Which one, by the way? Cause the second's far more of a long shot."

"Sure, it's a game of craps. But you're throwing loaded die. House always loses when you're at the table."

"Something tells me this one's a little more complicated."

"In the end, it always boils down to kill or be killed. Buffy, fretting's not going to help you win."

"I know. But Giles can." Buffy leaves to check on the latest research. Spike goes back to sleep. She gets a cup of coffee and joins him in the living room.

"I've found something."

"Good or bad?"

"All information is good. Better to know the bad news ahead of time."

"So it's bad."

"Possibly. It's called the Pearl Merv. The name's a misnomer. It's a two foot-wide sphere of polished white marble containing several veins of Lapis Lazuli. Legends claim it was found intact more than four thousand years ago in a granite quarry. Simply fell out of the rock face, naturally shiny and perfectly spherical. The early Chorasmian civilizations worshipped it, believing it possessed great magical powers. They were right. Over the next fifteen centuries, it was reportedly used to sap the power from hundreds of dangerous demons. But by the Achaemenid period, it had vanished. Possibly destroyed or stolen, but more likely hidden. This book says that the First will try to use the Merv Marble to capture the power of the Slayer line."

"Meaning no more Slayers. Any clue how they'll do this? Or, better yet, how I can stop them?"

"Use of the stone requires some sort of sacrifice. But before that can happen, our enemies have to find this object and transport it to Sunnydale."

"What makes you think it hasn't been here all along?"

"It's mystically radioactive. Someone would have sensed its presence. But remember, power is double-edged. We could turn it against Nina. In fact it could be the key to defeating her."

"So all you know for now is that it's a big, pretty rock that raises the stakes?"

"I'll find out more. That I promise you."

"I know you will. Sorry if I'm a pain. I've never been good at waiting."

"Speaking of which, it's 9:15. Faith should have been back by now."

By ten, everyone's awake. The Potentials are in their pajamas, eating breakfast in the kitchen. Everyone else is dressed, eating in the dining room or watching television in the living room. "8.6 on the Richter scale," Xander reports.

"Is that a a record around here?," Giles asks.

"The most powerful recorded earthquake in American history," Andrew answers. "The New Madrid quake was at least an 8, but we don't know exactly how big it was because they didn't have seismographs in 1811."

"The Hellmouth finishes second to none," Xander jokes.

"What about the tsunami?," Giles inquires. He's been too busy with his book to watch the news. Xander explains.

"About an hour before our earthquake, there was a huge tremor several hundred miles out at sea."

"What convenient timing," Giles notes. "And if I hear anyone utter the words Perfect Storm,' I just might be moved to slug them." Xander and Andrew both look disappointed. It was right on the tips of their tongues. The phone rings. Dawn picks it up.

"Hello? Okay. I'll tell him. No, you didn't miss anything." She hangs up.

"What was that?," Buffy asks.

"Nothing. Just Faith. She's back. Someone's gotta push the button to let her in."

"It's about time," Giles says as he walks over to the front door and presses the button that causes the entrance to pop up out of the ground. "I was beginning to worry."

"Worry about what?," Buffy asks jokingly. "That she'd left the country?"

"Guess this is goodbye," Faith says mournfully as she and Lindsey stand outside.

"For now," he answers with a tinge of optimism. She kisses him for a while, then opens the door.

"You wanna come in for sec?"

"I'm sure everyone down there's really busy."

"Try really bored." He follows her down the stairs. She opens the other door, and they enter. Andrew turns away from the television, sees them and gasps.

"Lindsey!" He leaps off the couch. Lindsey looks around.

"Not bad for a dugout. Plenty of people would pay good money to live in something this nice." Upon hearing Andrew's yell, the Potentials race in from the kitchen, in their pajamas.

"Hi," Amanda says while nervously fiddling with her wet shower hair. "Gosh. If I had known we were getting visitors, I would have put on something nicer." Madari, Fadila, Ariella and Rona feel the same way.

"I hope you didn't run into any problems on the way in," Giles says, referring to demons and agents of the First.

"There was some fog while we were preparing to land, but other than that, no," Lindsey responds.

"Land?," Buffy asks.

"Wait a minute," Giles begins. Then he hears a knock at the door.

"Spike. You wanna get that?," Lindsey suggests.

"Not really."

"Yes you do."

Spike rolls his eyes and groans. "Bloody hell." He doesn't know where this is leading. But if it's some sort of practical joke, he can always punch Lindsey. Spike opens the door. Two soldiers pick up a three gallon cylindrical plastic carton and hand it off to Spike. They close the door and walk away. At first, Spike's annoyed. Then he notices the container is full of a dark red liquid. He smiles like a kid on Christmas morning. "You brought me blood! Thank you. I love you." Spike carries it towards the kitchen, but turns around after a few steps. "You know I didn't mean anything by that last part. I'm just famished."

"It was Kelly's idea. So she's the one you should be saying I love you' to."

"Kel really does care about me," Spike says with a smile. As usual, Buffy's annoyed by how easily Faith's boyfriend charms everyone.

"Nice seeing all you fine people again, but I need to be getting home," Lindsey announces.

"Where's that?," Madari asks.

"Mississippi." Faith kisses him for a few more seconds, and Lindsey leaves. The girls are still swooning.

"He came more than halfway across the country just to see you for one night," Amanda says to Faith.

"That is so romantic," Rona adds. Buffy rolls her eyes and goes to the other end of the room. Faith relishes being the center of attention.

"Where did he take you?," Madari wonders. Faith sits on a couch. The Potentials sit and stand around her.

"For breakfast. In Mexico."

"Wow," Fadila adds in amazement.

"Where in Mexico?," Ariella asks.

"I forget the name. It was on the other coast. Wasn't important. Just an excuse for the plane ride. He redid the cabin. Took out the seats. Put a queen-size bed in back. I told him he didn't have to go to all that trouble for just one date." Buffy goes into her room to escape all the cooing over Faith's "super-boyfriend." She finally does feel like sleeping, and lies down for a nap.

Angel wakes up. Someone's slapping him. He opens his eyes. It's Cordelia.

"Wake up, sleepy head. It's 12:30."

"Sorry. I didn't know it was so late."

"Normally this wouldn't be a problem. But Channel Four just called. They're sending over a crew. It should be hear by one."

Angel looks confused. "Why? What's happened. Did someone in this die?"

"Yes. You. But that was a long time ago. Sunnydale getting squashed is a big national story. The local station wants to do a puff piece on the Good Samaritan who's putting all these stranded people up for free."

"I didn't do anything. They came here on their own. All I did was not kick them out."

"Think of it as karmic. You've helped a lot of people in this town, but never got any credit for it. Now you're finally a hero. So what if it's for something you didn't really do? You deserve it. Now shower, brush your teeth, do something about that bad breath, and what's that mark on your forehead?"

"What mark?"

"That big red thing."

Angel touches his forehead. Some of it comes off. It's from the Oracle. Evidently that wasn't a dream.


	50. Scratching the Surface

Early in the afternoon, Buffy decides to go outside and check for any activity by their enemies. Giles and Xander join her, while Anya, Dawn and Andrew also tag along. Faith is catching up on the sleep she missed last night. Buffy thought it would be safer to leave the Potentials behind, with Spike to watch over them and Faith to back him up if something happened. The six Potentials sit in front of and to the right of the television. Spike sits off to their left. None of them know quite what to talk about with him.

"So. You're, um, you're, ah, how old?," Fadila asks.

"One hundred and twenty three. Give or take a couple months."

"Do you mean from when you were born, or from when you became a vampire?," Ariella follows up.

"From when I was sired," Spike answers, already showing annoyance at the girls' quizzing.

"So when were you born?," Amanda wonders.

"Does it matter?," Spike evasively responds.

"Sounds like someone's sensitive about his age," Rona quips. The girls all giggle. Without warning, Willow enters the living room. She had been in her bedroom meditating and trying to break Nina's spell.

"Where is everyone?," Willow asks. Kennedy gasps and stands up. "You were right. This place is mighty big for a hole in the ground."

"You can see?," Kennedy asks in disbelief.

"Either that, or I've become really good at hallucinating." Kennedy rushes over and hugs her. They start smooching.

"Look at this," Spike announces, paying no attention at all to the happy couple. "Rupert's pet is on the tele." Willow and Kennedy turn to look.

"Is this on of the local stations?," Willow asks.

"No," Amanda responds. "It's CNN."

"She's a star," Kennedy notes with some obvious surprise.

"Does Giles know about this?," Willow asks.

"Probably not," Madari responds. "He hasn't watched much tv."

"Where is he?" After getting her answer, Willow surfaces and gets her first look at what's left. The wave had crushed everything. As the water receded, it scattered and juxtaposed the debris. It's hard to tell what came from where. Just anonymous wooden planks, concrete blocks, bricks and shingles strewn across the ground. Not even a single wall was left standing. With no trees or buildings to block her view, Willow can see farther than ever before. But it's a vista of desolation. Like Mother Nature had decided to wipe the slate clean. Willow makes her way over to the Hellmouth, where she can see a bunch of people she assumes are her friends milling around. The seals are gone, and the actual 'Mouth is a small foxhole three or four feet wide and eight feet deep.

"I don't see any signs of mystical activity," Giles reports to Buffy.

"Have any of those military boys been in town?," Xander asks. He's hunched over, closely inspecting the debris.

"Riley came to visit," Buffy recalls.

"I meant have any of them been here? Right here, where we're standing. What about cleanup crews? Someone's going to have to pick this stuff up. I'm wondering if they've already started."

"Why do you ask?," Giles wonders.

"Because someone has been here. And they've taken most of the building's steel. We're talking tons and tons of metal, gone."

"It could have been carried somewhere else," Giles suggests. "There's a steeple on Vince's ranch. His property was more than a mile from any church."

"The steel was here. And it was taken. Someone hacked off the brick work wherever it surrounded the beams. With axes or cutting implements of some sort. Which is strange. You want to smash up masonry, you use a sledgehammer. But the bricks are intact. Whoever did this broke up the mortar in a clean, straight line. I've never seen anything like it."

"None of us have ever seen anything like this," Andrew reminds him.

"Except for me," Anya adds. "Of course, those towns were all burnt. Which creates a much different look and odor. Not to mention the rotting corpses. Which are completely absent in this case."

"You're not getting it," Xander tells them. "Someone, or a lot of someones, scavenged this site with great care. And they managed to get a couple truck loads of steel out of this town without anyone noticing. We're supposed to be looking for suspicious activity. And if this isn't suspicious, I don't know what is."

"So Dawny, I guess you don't have to worry about not doing your homework," Willow says as she walks up to the destroyed high school. Once they see her, everyone forgets about what Xander was talking about. Including Xander.

"Willow! You, you got your eyes back," Xander exclaims.

"Her sight," Anya corrects him. "Retrieving actual eyeballs is a lot harder."

"How did it happen?," Giles asks, delighted by the good news.

"You were right. Or, Dawn was right." Dawn looks a little uncomfortable, as if she doesn't deserve the credit. "I was trying to overpower our enemies. And I didn't care where some of that power came from. After the thing with Cordy, I forgot that you couldn't beat evil with evil."

"But, in her case, you did beat evil with evil," Anya reminds Willow.

"I know. That was the problem. It worked against her. But not against a bigger, scarier evil thing. Nina can't be brought down with brute force. Her force is always bruter than anything we could whip up. Is bruter a word?"

Connor is back on his feet and in the lobby, hanging out with friends. A black girl he's never seen before walks up to him. "Hey. You're Connor, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Lisa. I hear you're Dawn's boyfriend."

"I hope I'm more than that to her."

"So you two are serious?"

"Seems that with me nothing's ever not serious."

"Oh," Lisa replies, a little confused. "I just came over cause I, uh, used to be friends with Dawn. We went to middle school together. But we went to different high schools."

Connor's intrigued. "You were good friends?"

"Yeah. Kind of, like, best friends for a while."

"When?"

"About two years ago."

"Thanks," Connor says, further confusing Lisa. "I know things were tough for her back then." He looks across the lobby at a pretty blonde girl whom he can hear talking about him. "You know who that is?," he asks Lisa. She looks closely.

"Oh my God. Is that Kirstie?"

"Who's Kirstie?"

"It is. She went to school with us. Dawn hated her."

"Why?"

"Kirstie said some really mean stuff. She made Dawn cry." Connor's eyes narrow as he stares at his prey. His blood starts to boil.

"Did Dawn make her pay?"

"Make her pay? What are you talking about?" Lisa doesn't know anything about Connor's life, but it's already clear to her that they live in very different worlds.

"Kirstie hurt Dawn. Did Dawn hurt Kirstie back?"

"No. She just dealed and got on with things."

"Great meeting you, Lisa."

"You too, Connor," a confused Lisa replies with less than full conviction.

"A friend of Dawn's is a friend of mine."

"Okay. Thanks. I guess."

"You ever need any help with anything, just ask."

"Sure," Lisa responds before backing away. She knows Connor is the son of the guy who owns this place. And she knows that he's a mysterious guy. People keep saying the hotel's just a front for Angel. Some of them think he's in with the mob. In Lisa's eyes, Connor didn't do anything to dispel those rumors. All that talk about loyalty and payback. Lisa was observant enough to realize that Connor lived by a different code than almost everyone else.

Connor smiles as he stares at Kirstie and plans he sweet retribution. He slowly limps over to Kirstie and her three female friends. He's managed to mask the limp and make it appear to be a sort of swaggering gait. He fiddles with his hair to make sure it's in place. Time to show that he's inherited Angelus's charm – as well as his finely honed sense of cruelty. "Hi Kirstie," he says when he reaches her. This takes her by surprise.

"How did you know my name?"

"Asked around to find out who the beautiful girl across the room was. I'm Connor."

"I know," Kirstie replies, appreciating his compliment.

"How do YOU know MY name?," he asks with a sly grin.

"You're the guy who's dad owns this place, right?"

"Yeah," Connor responds, worrying that she may actually be more interested in his father. How typical.

"And aren't you, like, seeing someone from Sunnydale?"

"You mean Dawn. We went out a few times."

"You mean you're no longer a couple?," one of Kirstie's friends asks.

"I'm here. She's not. Are you seeing anyone?," Connor asks Kirstie. She's a little taken aback by the sudden come-on.

"Umm, no. Not really."

"Cool," Connor replies with a smile. "Maybe I could show you around this town?"

"Okay," Kirstie replies with a smile. When she thought he was dating Dawn, Kirstie hadn't thought much of Connor. But, now that it was clear he had come to his senses, dumped Dawn and recognized Kirstie's unquestionable superiority, she thought there was hope for this boy yet. Besides, he did have that cute, mysterious, not-boring-like-all-the-high-school-boys thing going for him.

"Great. There's this club a few blocks from here where I sometimes go. I could meet you and your friends there. Say, tenish?"

"Sure. See you then, Connor."

"Looking forward to it, Kirstie." He smiles at her friends, then walks away. After a few steps, he looks back over his shoulder at her and smiles once more. He can hear her whispering excitedly to her friends. Perfect.

Dawn walks down a street, the exposed basement foundations of the destroyed houses flanking her on either side. Buffy comes up to her. "Guess this time we really can't go home again," Buffy weakly jokes.

"We really blew it on the from beneath you' part," Dawn replies. "All this time worrying about the Hellmouth. We completely forgot about the tectonic plates."

"Around here, there's always been something of a connection between the two. Earthquake means an apocalypse is just around the corner."

"Like a warning shot? This was one helluva warning."

"For the Ultimate Evil. Makes sense to me."

"Things around here making sense. That would be a first. Sorry about the pun."

"No. You're right, Dawn. Things don't happen for a reason. Not to us. They just happen. Like, you know, your whole prophecy thing."

"I was wondering when you were going to bring that up."

"I have been kind of busy. Which, I guess, was the problem. I'm sorry I haven't there for you."

"Why? It's not like you haven't had other important stuff to deal with. Like fighting the First, and keeping all of us alive. And what does that have to do with the visions?"

"Nothing. Not directly," Buffy responds. She still thinks the Connor thing wouldn't have happened if Dawn hadn't felt neglected and ignored. "But I think, if we had been closer, you might have mentioned something so major. Then again, in the past I haven't been too open with you about my relationships."

"So that's what bothers you? Not that I have this strange power, but that Connor's the one who gave it to me?"

"No. Absolutely not. That has nothing to do with it. Giles said that this sort of power isn't something humans are meant to have. It hurts them. And, eventually, kills them. Do you know that?"

"I know it doesn't hurt. Okay, maybe a tiny bit. But not the way it's supposed to with other people. That's why I have it. Because I can take it."

"For now. What about five years from now?"

"Five years ago, I wasn't even a person. We can't predict the future. We can't predict what things will be like next week."

"But we can hope there is a future. One where you go to college and leave all this insanity behind and become an amazing, incredible woman who can go anywhere and do anything she wants. I don't see where phoning in tips to Angel fits into that."

"Who said the tips were for Angel?" This causes Buffy to pause.

"Well, everyone."

"And who said I'd be phoning them in?"

"Oh no," Buffy says, putting her right hand to her forehead in distress. "This is what I was afraid of."

Connor, Kit and Elijah are sitting on a couch, hanging out in Kit's room.

"You sure?," Eli asks Connor.

"Go ahead."

"In the face?"

"Why not?" Elijah balls up his right fist. He hesitates for a few seconds, then tries to punch Connor on the stomach. He can't. Kit and Eli are both shocked. "Told you."

"I don't believe it," Kit declares before reaches across Elijah's body and trying to slap Connor in the face. "How did this happen?"

"Don't know. It's been like this the last two weeks."

"You mean since your dad got his soul back?," Elijah asks.

"Yeah," Connor replies. He hadn't made that connection. It started the night after Angel returned.

"Did you just hear yourself?," Kit asks her boyfriend. "Since your dad got his soul back? You said that the way someone says since your dad got his new golf clubs." Connor laughs. "Yeah, are lives are pretty screwed up," Kit confesses. She and Elijah also laugh. But that's not why Connor was laughing. He pulls up his shirt to show them a puncture wound on his stomach.

"You see this? Golf club. This vampire broke it in half and ran me through with the shaft." Connor enjoys a few more chuckles. His friends stop laughing. They don't find stab wounds quite as hilarious.

"When did this happen?," Elijah asks.

"Thursday."

"Oh," Kit responds. "You killed him, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Eli adds. Connor's friends sigh and try to put this little exchange behind them. "So. Connor. What else have you been up to?"

They were alone because Kit's father was downstairs, snooping around. He saw Wesley leave the office and return a few minutes later carrying a large, leather-bound book. No sooner had Wesley sat back down at the desk than Kit's father entered, spooking Wesley. "Can I help you?"

"No." He has a look around, further creeping Wesley out.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Are you?"

"This is a private office," Wes informs the familiar-looking stranger. "Have we met?"

"I was the first one here. And I swear that I had nothing to do with everyone who followed in my wake."

"You're Connor's friend's father."

"Christopher Holburn. Kit's my daughter." He walks over and holds out his right hand. Wes stands up and shakes it.

"Wesley Wyndham-Price." Wes looks down at his open book, and quickly closes it.

"Varro," Kit's dad comments. "A decent spell book. Very popular. Though I've always preferred Atticus." Now Wesley was worried. The only thing worse than a curious guest who was unaware of mystical forces was a curious guest who was quite familiar with them. Mister Holburn opens the book to the page Wesley had bookmarked with a red ribbon. "Take this locator spell, for instance. It calls for cypress oil. You should use juniper instead."

"Juniper is a type of cypress."

"But a far more useful one than the others. More expensive as well. But well worth the cost."

"You believe this spell won't work? I beg to differ."

"It will work. You'll find what you're looking for. But you'll also find ten other things. And you won't know which one's the real McCoy. That's a lot of wasted time try to discover which X really marks the spot. The question is, how much do you value your time?"

Wesley thinks about this. "Would I use the same volume as the generic cypress?"

"You can get away with half." He looks at the page. "It calls for three others to complete the circle. You're not thinking of using Angel? Vampires have a way of distorting the energy fields, causing spells to malfunction. On account of them being dead and all."

"How did you know Angel was a vampire?"

"I could sense it when I saw him."

"You never met him." Wes thinks he's caught this suspicious fellow in a lie.

"When I walked into the lobby, he was sitting right here. Along with someone else. I'm guessing that was Connor. The check-in desk is less than twenty feet from here. And drywall doesn't do much to shield auras. Thick masonry, or reinforced concrete, that's another matter entirely."

Wesley stands up, comes out from behind the desk, cleans his glasses, and puts them back on. "I should have suspected as much. You bring together several hundred Sunnydale residents, a few of them are bound to know something of the mystical realm."

"I never did any magic in Sunnydale. That place corrupts those who try to use their power."

"When and where did you use magic?"

Christopher sits down on the couch and decides to throw Wes a bone. "I know many of your secrets. I suppose it's only fair to tell you one or two of mine."

Over the next few hours, the gang trickles back home. First Anya and Andrew. Then Willow and Dawn. And finally, more than three hours after leaving, Xander, Giles and Buffy. By then, Faith's woken up. "What kept you three?," she asks them. "Anything I should know about?"

"No sign of our enemies," Giles reports. "Just a few missing building materials." Xander objects to his dismissive tone.

"Someone's stripped the school of all its structural steel."

"I doubt it was doing the smashed building much good," Spike quips. Giles is mildly disconcerted that Spike's in agreement with him.

"It would take a crew of fifty men a week to break apart and cart off that much metal. The First did it in less than a day."

"The Bringers never struck me as the good-with-tools types," Buffy comments.

"And I don't think Nina's into doing manual labor," Anya adds.

"The metal's gone," Xander reiterates. "Probably taken through the Hellmouth."

"Why?," Dawn asks. She has more faith in Xander's intuition than the others, and hopes he has an explanation.

"With that much high-grade steel, they could build thousands of hand-held weapons. Or, one giant weapon."

"What if they want to give hundreds of Bringers body armor?," Andrew theorizes. "Or armor-plated uber-vamps, impervious to staking and neck-chopping?"

Even Xander finds Andrew's ideas to be dubious. "They're not Orks," he tells Andrew. "And this isn't Middle Earth."

"Was there anything of note on the news?," Giles asks, trying to bring everyone back to reality.

"Just your girlfriend," Amanda reports.

"Do you think I should have gone with make-up?," Angel asks Cordy and Fred. "I'm afraid I looked a little pasty on camera."

"I'm sure you looked fine," Fred assures him.

"Was it wrong to wear all black? I wouldn't want to come across as dour."

"How can someone who can't see himself in the mirror be so vain?," Cordy jokes.

"Are we sure it's not on at eleven?," Fred asks.

"They said six," Angel responds. "Relax. It's only five minutes into the show." Right now, they're doing a story on Sunnydale. Suddenly, Wesley's jaw drops. Kelly's on the screen.

"There's someone who doesn't need makeup to look good on the small screen," Lorne comments.

"So that's Kelly," Cordy realizes. She looks at Wesley, and sees how enraptured he is. "Down boy. I guess fame really is the ultimate aphrodisiac."

"I thought it was power?," Lorne asks.

"Yeah. It's power," Connor responds, referring to his own personal observations.

"You're wrong," Wesley intones, still entranced by Kelly's presence on the screen. "It's both." He sighs happily, then gets alarmed when they go back to the anchors. "That's all?"

"Relax Wes. We're taping it," Fred assures him. For the moment, she's somewhat jealous of Kelly. She had taken Wesley's ardent affections for granted, and missed them when they were redirected at another woman.

"So you can save your drooling for later," Cordy adds.

"I'm not drooling." Then he puts his right hand to the right corner of his mouth.

"Quiet," Lorne requests. "They're introducing our story."

After the sun set, Spike surfaces for the first time since the earthquake. After walking around for a half-hour, he decides that when you've seen one pile of rubble, you've seen them all. Back inside, Giles gets off the phone with Wesley. He looks slightly concerned.

"What's wrong?," Buffy asks him.

"Nothing, really. Just that, well, you see – Dawn, how come you never mentioned that Kit's father was a warlock?"

"Your friend's dad is evil?," Willow asks Dawn.

"He is not evil! Why would you even say that?"

"Well, just cause, you know, I've never known of a good' warlock."

"So what? There's probably tons of people who've never met a good witch. You're just being sexist."

"Not entirely," Anya argues. "Warlocks are somewhat more prone than witches to embrace evil. And, around here, everyone's prone to embrace evil. Especially people with power."

"He doesn't even do spells. Not since Kit's mom died."

"Did he play a part in that?," Willow wonders. Dawn groans.

"Yes. In the sense that he tried to save her. Kit's mom was a witch. I guess she was really powerful, and eventually became addicted. When Kit was seven, her dad gave her mom an ultimatum: us, or the magic. She left. A couple months later, she was found dead. Let's just say Kit's not a big fan of witchcraft."

"That's very wise and mature of her," Giles comments. "Much more than I was at her age."

"Her dad's had a lot to do with that. He's always forbidden her to do spells."

"From both sides of the family," Willow marvels. "Think of all that innate power." The other can't quite figure out why Willow, of all people, doesn't get it.

"That's what scares her," Dawn responds.

"But she still uses it," Buffy argues. "How else did she know to leave the school last Monday, before anything even happened?"

"She can sense forces," Dawn explains. "And auras. Passive stuff like that. But she doesn't do anything with it. Not on purpose. Sometimes stuff happens accidentally. Like when Kit got suspended from school in seventh grade. She was scared her dad would be mad at her. So she became invisible to everyone for, like, three days. She couldn't undo it."

"Because she didn't know how," Willow counters. "If she knew how to control her power, she wouldn't have to worry about those kinds of accidents. I could help her with that. Give her the benefit of my experience."

"Kit's afraid of you. She knows what you did. And what you tried to do."

"You told her?"

"Kit knew about you long before she met me. She could feel what you were doing. So could her father. Even though they were a thousand miles away. It's like you were broadcasting."

"So it wasn't just Giles's friends?," Willow asks meekly. "I freaked out the entire wiccan community? Gosh. I didn't know I was so infamous."

"Her dad didn't even want Kit to come over to our house. Because he knew you lived there. He worried that you would be a bad influence."

"That's unfair. I stopped being a bad influence before you ever met her. And it's easy to nitpick when you're just standing on the sidelines not doing anything."

"I wouldn't be too hard of him. He's the one who figured out how Nina made you blind."

"You were at her house Friday afternoon," Buffy realizes. "Why did you lie to us?"

"Sneaking out to do research behind our backs," Xander says, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Kids these days."

"He's out of the business, so to speak," Dawn explains. "And he doesn't want to be brought back in."

"Like John Wayne in The Quiet Man'," Xander notes.

"Sounds to me like he's afraid," Willow responds. "No guts, no glory. I mean, he could help people, but he chooses not to."

"He's not a doctor," Giles argues. "There's no Hippocratic Oath for magicians. No obligation to use his skills to help those he knows are in need."

"I wasn't arguing that there should be," Willow replies. "I understand if he wants to protect his family. And I respect that. But it's a waste of power. In case you haven't noticed, in this world the forces of good need all the help they can get."

When Spike returns to the bunker, he sees a car driving towards him. Suspicious of who's inside, he rushes down to tell the others.

"We have company."

"What kind?," Giles asks.

"Don't know. They were in a car. Non-military."

"Maybe it's Stella."

"Didn't look like hers." Giles pulls down the periscope and takes a look for himself.

"There is a vehicle parked outside. My hunch is that agents of the First wouldn't be so bloody obvious."

"Anyone else know that we're here?," Buffy asks Giles.

"I'm not sure." Giles walks towards the door.

"Shouldn't you take weapons, just in case?," Xander suggests.

"I'm going with you," Buffy adds. Giles takes an ax, Buffy and Faith a sword. The three of them head back out with Spike. They see a blonde woman in her early thirties who's a few inches taller than Buffy. She wears jeans, a white tank top and a light blue shirt.

"That was quick," she comments on their coming out to see her before she let them know she was there. "I didn't even call ahead." She looks at their weaponry. "Were you expecting something else?"

"Kate," Giles says, dropping his ax. "What a pleasant surprise." He walks up and kisses her on the cheek. Faith, Buffy and Spike are bewildered.

"Two-timing at a time like this," Spike jokes. "Gotta hand it to you, Rupert."

"This is Kate Lockley. She's with the State Police." Faith gets nervous, turns around and heads back inside.

"It's nothing," she tells them. "Just one of Giles's lady friends."

"The mayor?," Andrew asks.

"No. Some blonde cop." They've never heard of such a friend. Intrigued, Xander, Willow, Kennedy, Anya and Andrew head outside to meet this new stranger.

"Have we met?," Kate asks Buffy.

"No. I don't this so. How do you know Giles?"


	51. Buffy makes a new friend

Kate hits it off with Buffy and completely rubs Spike the wrong way. In LA, Connor publicly humiliates a girl, seriously distressing Angel and causing him to look at Connor's friends in a whole new light.

Giles elects to answer Buffy's question on Kate's behalf. "You see Buffy, Kate's been my liaison to the authorities. One might say that she's been our Queen of Damage Control."

"Huh?," Buffy responds. Kate explains.

"Minors taken away from their parents. In some cases out of their country. Many of them never being able to return. To an outsider, that looks very suspicious. To say nothing of the girls who keep turning up at the local morgue. Out-of-towners who were obviously murdered, all of whom could be connected to you. And if the cops or the F.B.I. ever started asking you questions, you wouldn't be able to give them any satisfactory answers. It's my job to ensure that they never even think of asking you these questions."

"And why are you so eager to help us out?," Spike asks suspiciously. "What's in it for you?"

"For one thing, I'm not helping you out. Rupert, who is this?"

"The name's Spike," the peeved vampire tells Kate. He doesn't like her attitude.

"Spike what?"

"Just Spike."

Kate chuckles. "One of those one-named prima donnas. I'm all-too-familiar with your type."

"I doubt that, love." Kate gives Spike a don't-you-ever-call-me-that-ever-again glare.

"Rupert, is he one of your assistants from England?" Spike can barely suppress his outrage. These two have really gotten off on the wrong foot. Giles holds back his laughter and struggles to explain Spike's identity.

"Spike is, er, one of Buffy's helpers. He's a fighter."

"Really," Kate remarks with a dismissive chuckle or two. Buffy can tell Spike's about to explode. "He doesn't look like much of a fighter to me."

Spike wants to pounce on this insolent stranger and give her a little bite in the neck, just to teach her respect. "You think you could take me?"

"Actually, yeah. I do," she responds. Kate gives Spike a cocky smile, which, to his surprise, turns him on slightly.

"Okay then. Why don't you have a go at me?"

Buffy decides that now is the time to get between these two. "Spike's a, Spike's a, well, the thing is, Spike's a vampire. With a soul." Now she starts rambling. "I take it you know about vampires, since you know about Slayers. It only makes sense that you would. But he's a good vampire."

"A vampire with soul? Him?" Kate nearly doubles over with laughter. This is too much for her. Spike growls. Buffy, who's standing to Spike's left, puts her right hand on his chest and tries to calm him down. She doesn't have to say anything to get her message across.

"You're right," Spike tells Buffy. "She can't help it if she's bloody ignorant."

This stops Kate's laughter in its tracks. She smirks, and pauses for a few seconds before responding. The moment's too rich of an opportunity for her to blow. Her comeback needs to be perfect. "I'm sorry. Spike. The thing is, Spike, I knew there was a vampire with a soul residing somewhere in Southern California. But everyone told me that he was tall, dark and handsome. You're 0 for 3." Her gratuitous repetition of Spike's name was perhaps a way for Kate to reiterate the fact that Spike is most definitely not Angel.

Giles, who stands to Kate's left and faces Spike, bites the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing. He wishes Andrew had been there to film Kate's magnificent diss for posterity. Spike can see that Giles is struggling to keep from laughing. Now he wants to slug Giles, in addition to biting Kate. He didn't think she could do anything to make him more angry. Then she had to bring Angel up. Buffy could not be feeling any more uncomfortable than she does right now. Kate can tell that she's struck a nerve. She assumes it's because of Spike's vanity, and the fact that she said he wasn't handsome. Not because these people know Angel. Perhaps that's what she wants to believe, because Kate doesn't want to discuss her time in LA. Though neither of them know it, Buffy and Kate have entered into a conspiracy of silence regarding Angel.

The four of them hear the door open. Xander, Willow, Kennedy, Anya and Andrew emerge. Buffy breathes a sigh of relief. The new arrivals can change the subject for her. "What did we miss?," Xander asks, causing Buffy to scowl.

"Nothing, really. I mean that. Zilch. Nada," she rambles.

"I'll tell you later," Giles says as an aside to Xander. "Kate, these are Buffy's human friends."

"Currently human," Anya clarifies. "But not always." This only serves to further puzzle Kate. "So how does an attractive young woman like yourself get close to Giles?" Kate appreciates the compliment and ignores the insinuation.

"I'm with the state police."

"Kate's been keeping the cops out of our hair," Buffy explains. "And the F.B.I. Or was that just for effect?"

"I wish," Giles concedes. Andrew, who at first was frightened by the knowledge that she was a cop (he's still technically a fugitive), is now greatly intrigued. He starts looking at Kate a whole new way.

"Kidnapping's one of their prime domains," Kate explains.

"Giles never kidnapped anyone," Willow argues.

"No," Anya retorts with her usual glibness. "He's just the mysterious, middle-aged man who took young girls away from their parents for reasons they can't quite comprehend. For all they know, he's the one killing their daughters."

"That about sums it up," Kate adds. She likes Anya's directness.

"So what do you really do?," Xander asks, immediately realizing that came out wrong. "What I mean is, obviously that's not your main job. What do you do when you're not helping out Giles?"

"Same sort of work. I go around the state and handle the threats to public safety that the local authorities aren't prepared to deal with." Andrew's eyes grow huge, like saucers. He begins to hyperventilate.

"You're in charge of the X-Files. The ones in California." Kate gives Andrew a sour look. She long ago grew sick of the Scully comparisons. Andrew's already too far gone in his Scully fantasy world to notice her disapproval. His ears hear the ethereal five-note theme. His eyes see "The Truth Is Out There" hovering behind her like a levitating neon sign. Xander's trying his best to resist the same impulse. Kennedy and Willow are checking Kate out with their gaydar — perhaps out of wishful thinking.

"You mean you're a professional demon fighter?," Spike asks with obvious doubt in his voice.

"Sometimes. I've staked more than a few vampires in my time," she replies with playful menace. Xander and Willow are both turned on by Kate's threatening of Spike. "But not that many more. My slaying abilities are naturally limited," she adds with a smirk. Kate never refers to it as "slaying." She's only doing so now because of her company. "Lucky for me, wherever there are demons, there's at least one demon fighter." She can tell that her audience is hanging on her every word, which she likes. Kate's never had such a curious and receptive audience. "The way it works is, when there are mysterious deaths somewhere, I show up to investigate. If I'm lucky, the monster's already dead. If not, I find out what it is and round up as large a force as I think I need to take it down. Then I tell the local authorities if there are any humans to punish. If not, I just tell them the problem's solved, end of story. They're almost always too grateful and confused to ask questions."

"It's your job to conceal the truth?," Anya asks. Giles thinks this is rude. But Kate doesn't mind.

"Yes," she replies with a smile. Anya can tell Kate likes her. She makes the mistake of thinking that Kate's flirting with her. Willow's feeling a little jealous.

"We do the same thing," she volunteers. "For more than six years. We help Buffy save the world and make sure no one knows what almost happened."

"I know," Kate replies. Now that Willow's caught Kate's eye, Willow starts unconsciously flirting with the fetching visitor. "That's why I've never come here. I don't go where I'm not needed." Buffy interprets this to mean that Kate's never been to Los Angeles, which confirms in her mind that Kate's never met Angel.

"Clearly we need you now," Xander remarks, trying too hard to be cute and coming across as a tad desperate. "Or, at least you think we need you."

"Actually, it's Mayor Santos who needs me." Willow and Xander immediately read this the wrong way, until they realize that interpretation is insulting to Giles. "The police are trained to handle civilians. Deal with their questions and complaints. The army isn't. And it's best if the officer in charge actually knows what happened. And what's still happening."

Xander thinks over her last sentence. "Does that mean you're keeping the town clear until we're done fighting the First?"

"Stella believed that dozens of bulldozers moving the wreckage and thousands of people sifting through it for their belongings would get in the way. I trust her judgement. She's the one who introduced me to Giles and suggested I help him out."

"That's impossible," Giles counters. "I met you at three months before I met Estella."

"Maybe introduced was the wrong word. But she did point me in your direction."

"Shouldn't you be manning the barricades right now?," Spike wonders. "Keeping the mob in check? Why the little field trip behind the lines?" Kate knows he's trying to insinuate (in his unsubtle way) that she doesn't belong. And she knows he's right.

"Stella wanted me to check on you people, and see how you were holding up. She's been too busy trying to help out displaced residents. She also wanted me to tell you, Rupert, that she'll try to swing by late tomorrow afternoon. And she hopes you understand why she hasn't been more in touch." Willow and Xander think it's cute that Kate's doing the equivalent of passing Giles a note from his girlfriend. Buffy just finds it gross to be reminded that Giles has a girlfriend.

"Of course," Giles responds. "I've been quite busy myself."

"Nice meeting all of you," Kate says. Then she looks at Spike in particular. "Well, most of you." He sneers back at her, thinks of flipping her the bird, but decides against it.

"Great meeting you, too," Xander responds.

"Come back anytime you want," Andrew slavishly adds. "It's a shame that it took an apocalypse to bring us together." Giles, Spike, Willow, Kennedy and Xander start walking towards the door. Andrew doesn't move. Anya yanks on his left arm, pulling him along with the rest of them. Buffy stays behind.

"Buffy. Aren't you coming along?," Giles asks.

"I'm just going to, you know, take a quick sweep around. I'll be in soon."

"You want me to come with?," Spike suggests.

"No. That's okay. It's nothing, really." Not quite sure what she's up to, but knowing that it's pointless to argue with her, Spike heads in with the rest. He's the last one through the door, and takes one more look over his shoulder at Buffy before heading underground. Kate sits in the black Jeep she's using to get around. She senses some sort of relationship between Buffy and Spike, but knows better than to pry. She understands how complicated things can be with vampires. Privately, Kate hopes it's nothing serious. She thinks Buffy can definitely do better.

Kate starts the engine, gets on the nearest paved road and drives south. This makes Buffy suspicious. She runs after Kate and quickly catches up with the Jeep. At first, Kate's surprised. Then she remembers the whole Slayer Power thing. She stops to see what Buffy wants. "I thought you were leaving," Buffy tells Kate.

"My boss wants me to take a look around, report back to him."

"Report what? That everything's destroyed? There's nothing to see."

"No harm in finding that out for myself, now is there?" Buffy senses that Kate's trying to turn the suspicion around and point it in Buffy's direction.

"I suppose not. But you've never been here. How could you tell what each pile bricks used to be? Seems to me like they'd send someone who knew the area."

"Local cops are too scared. They don't know what's lurking behind the lines. Naturally, they fear the worst."

"And you don't, because you don't know any better?"

"I know that if a demon wants to hurt people, it goes where the people are. Which isn't here. Also, Stella said they left town the night before. Guess they could sense what was coming."

"Or what had already come," Buffy adds, referring to the demon-hating and super-powerful Nina.

"I'm sure it's not my place to ask, but why are you out all alone? My hunch is that if you were hunting for the bad guys, you'd want backup."

"It's personal."

"Everything's personal to someone."

"You didn't answer my question. How do you know your way around? Especially in the dark."

"I have a road map." Kate holds it up. "Tells me what each block of debris used to be." Buffy takes a look, then hands it back.

"Not bad. That could come in handy even for me. It's dark. There are no landmarks. I know which general direction to go in, but that only gets me to the right neighborhood."

"So you're going somewhere specific. A place where you want to be alone. A grave? I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. But I know that's where I'd be going."

Buffy waits five seconds before responding. She decides to take a gamble and trust this woman. "Can I get in?"

"Be my guest." Buffy sits in the front passenger seat. "You're right. I was going to try to find my mother's grave. If it's still there."

"My mom died when I was seven." Buffy's longshot hunch that she could connect with Kate appears to be paying off.

"I'm sorry," Buffy reflexively responds.

"Don't be. You had nothing to do with it." Kate had grown sick of the well-meaning but hollow I'm sorrys pretty soon after her mom's funeral. Buffy realizes that Kate's making a dark joke.

"My mom died a little more than two years ago. Obviously, it was nothing like what you went through."

"I'm sure I could say the same about a million bad things that have happened in your life. I still had my dad. He was a cop. That's why I joined the force. I never even imagined myself as anything else."

"Your dad WAS a cop. Is he retired?"

"He was retired. When he was killed by vampires."

"Is that what got you started? As a demon fighter?"

"Never really thought of myself as a demon fighter. But, no. I had already crossed paths with demons. Killed one or two. It wasn't a career choice, or a personal vendetta. I investigated a couple murders where the killers turned out not to be human. You might say I literally stumbled into it."

"So how long ago was the, umm, stumbling?"

"Three-and-a-half years, or so. And once you get tagged with the supernatural label, you can't go back to doing regular cases. Too many wisecracks from the other detectives. By about two years ago, it was either give up being a cop, or make a new niche for myself. Like I said, I never imagined myself as anything other than a cop. It almost defines who I am as a person."

"I know a little about what that can feel like."

"Except that you never had a choice in the matter. I just pretended that I didn't have a choice. And while my job's dangerous, it's a picnic compared to yours. Better than ninety percent of us survive twenty five years and get our pension. You're expected to die in the line of duty."

"Sometimes more than once," Buffy quips. Kate doesn't get it. "Being a cop is one thing. Being a cop who fights demons, that's a whole other kind of dangerous. I know this much: You're lucky." Naturally, Kate's shocked by Buffy's declaration. "You're lucky that you're still alive and in one piece. I know I couldn't do what you do if l lacked my Slayer Skills. Looks like at least one vampire got his teeth into you." Sitting to Kate's right, Buffy can easily see the long, jagged scar that runs down the right side of Kate's neck. She immediately feels embarrassed and tries to cover the scar with her collar.

"It's nothing. Happened a long time ago." Now that Buffy has her head turned to the left so she can look at Kate, Kate is able to see the even more prominent crescent-shaped scar on the right side of Buffy's neck. "Looks like someone took a chunk out of you, too." Now Buffy's the embarrassed one. She looks straight ahead and leans her head against the door, far away from Kate.

"Occupational hazard," she weakly explains.

"I'm sure you killed him."

"I did. But that was before he bit me." Kate's now too confused to continue on this tangent, which is fortunate for the both of them. "Anyway, I came over here because I saw you were driving south. Which is the same direction I was heading in. And, since you have a map, and I don't, I was wondering if you could give me a lift."

"Which cemetery?"

"Woodlawn."

Kate turns on the car light and looks at the map. "That's easy to get to. Due south for three miles. Turn right. Go west for a half-mile, Gate's on the left."

"Thanks."

"It's nothing." Kate restarts the engine, buts on her high beams and drives off.

"By the way, where do you live?"

"Sacramento. But I spend about half my time on the road. Which is fine with me. I'm not a big fan of the north central valley. More of an LA girl. That's where I grew up."

"Whoa. Me too. Whereabouts?"

"Reseda."

"No kidding! I'm from Sherman Oaks. We grew up like five miles apart." She thinks about this for a few seconds. "Strange how much we have in common. Almost eery."

"We're driving at night to a cemetery in a deserted and destroyed town," Kate points out. "How could that not be eery?," she jokes. However, Buffy didn't see anything spooky about going to graveyards at night. Making friends with the out-of-town cop she met less than fifteen minutes ago — that was spooky.

"All that traveling must put a big crimp in your social life."

"You're assuming there was a social life to crimp. It's always been tough meeting decent people in my line of work. Long before I met my first demon." Who was, ironically, Angel.

"There are more important things in life than dating."

"Like saving the world?," Kate quips.

"That would be one example."

"One that doesn't apply to me."

"You say that like it's your fault," Buffy jokes. "Your job's very important. You save lives. You fight evil."

"I wouldn't that far. You can't fight evil."

"Like hell I can't. I mean, like hell you can't. Because you can."

"You can also attack windmills on horseback. Won't do you any good, though. Evil's inside every human being. You collar one bad guy, someone else is going to take his place. I can't stop crime. All I can do, all anyone can do, is to try to make sure the crooks don't get away with it."

"The rules are a little different when it comes to demons. In the sense that there aren't any."

"Didn't you find that when you killed one vampire, another took his place?"

"And when I killed him, someone else took his place. And on and on like a hundred times over. But that's not the point."

"I know. The point is that, thanks to you, they don't run amok. Vampire kills someone, catches your attention, his nights are numbered."

"Ninety-nine percent of the time. And the other one-percent, well, let's not go into that."

"Demons or criminals, it's the same story. We can't get rid of them. But we can keep them on the defensive. Make sure they understand that they're doomed to lose."

"You told them where they were?," Dawn asks Connor with mild shock and disapproval.

"They just kept asking. And they were worried. What's the problem?" From Dawn's point of view, the primary problem is that the Potentials might not live to see these boys again. But she's not going to say that in the living room, in front of them.

"You didn't tell them what they are? Please tell me you didn't."

"Ya mean the Potential thing? Naw. That didn't come up."

"Well, don't let it."

"Why would it? They're just girls. Nothing special about them yet." As usual, Connor holds a view that is in diametric opposition to Buffy.

"Did you tell them why they're here?"

"Dawn, I know better than that."

"Good to hear." Dawn is pleasantly surprise to find out that Connor has learned to draw a line between the demon-fighting world and the normal (to Connor the alien) world. "Enough about them. How are you?"

"Good. It's great have Eli and Kit and Carlos around. You're not mad at me?"

"For what?"

"For telling."

"Connor, you just wanted to help them. I can't be mad at you for that. Unless you said anything about Slayers or the First Evil."

"I don't care about that stuff." For Connor, demons trying to kill you was a normal part of life that didn't deserve mention. "To me, they're just some girls who live in the same house with the girl I love." Dawn sighs and sits down.

"You're still the sweetest boy in the world."

"Just to you." Connor sighs and sits down on his bed. There's a loud knock at his door. "By the way, Dawn, they're right outside my room. Waiting to talk. So, maybe we could do some more of this after they've, ya know, said hi?"

"Oh. Sure. That makes sense. Wait a sec. I need to tell them." At first, Amanda, Rona and Madari are very excited. But they quickly realize how thorny the situation is. How do you say "Hi honey, wish I could be there, but I'm fighting for my life and trying to save the world"? Connor opens the door and lets them in. Amanda goes first. Since she had friends and family in Sunnydale, she's had the most experience dealing with (glossing over) these matters.

"Preston?"

"It's Connor. Is that you, Amanda?"

"Yeah. It's me all right. Hi Connor. How are things? How's your dad?" She's trying to be polite. They do know each other, and she did briefly have a crush on him.

"Not evil." Amanda remembers that Connor isn't exactly the sort who excels at casual conversation. Or casual anything.

"Can you put Preston on?"

"Amanda?"

"Hi Preston."

"It's you! This is great. I've missed you."

"Me too. Except I've missed you, instead of me. Kinda hard to miss yourself."

"Where are you?"

"Uh, umm, away. And safe. In an undisclosed location." She laughs nervously.

"With Buffy Summers?"

"Yes. It's a thing. How's Randy taking all this?," she asks about his younger brother, switching the subject.

It's quarter past eleven on Sunday night. About fifty teenagers are milling about in the Hyperion lobby. Since going back to their rooms means being with their parents, the kids try to spend as much time as possible out of their rooms. Connor leans against one of the side pillars supporting the balcony. His arms are folded. He calmy scans the crowd. He's been doing that for the last fifteen minutes. The front door opens. Connor looks to his right. Kirstie and her three friends walk in. She does not look happy. Connor grins. Then he walks over to them, standing in front of the circular couch. He waits for her to come down the stairs. Man, does she look pissed. Connor can hardly contain his glee. He smirks, raises his eyebrows and puts his hands in his pockets. She stops right in front of him, folds her arms and looks very cross.

"I waited for over an hour. Where the hell were you?"

"I'm sorry. Did you really think that I'D go out with YOU?" As he asks this question, Connor raises his voice so everyone in the lobby can hear. The room goes quiet. "I'm sorry if you deluded yourself into thinking I liked you. I could NEVER like you!" Now Kirstie's looking hurt. Like she's about to cry. Connor senses that the mob wants him to go in for the kill. Kirstie has long been the stuck-up super-popular Queen Bee. She'd hurt a lot of people's feelings over the years. Some of are were eager to see how Kirstie reacts to a taste of her own medicine. Right now, she's too stunned to respond. So Connor continues his abuse. "I'm sorry if that's news to you, Kirstie. But I need a girl with a little class." Unbeknownst to Connor, Angel was on the balcony when his son began to gleefully pick apart this young girl. Daddy is not amused.

"Is this some immature little prank?," Kirstie asks, trying not to betray her emotions. "God. Grow up."

"What's wrong, Kirstie? Did I hurt your feelings? Are you gonna cry? How's it feel to know you're the girl everyone's laughing at? Dawn's a diamond. Why would would I ever go out a cubic zirconia like you?" The choice of analogy surprises Angel. It was Elijah's idea. Kit and Eli, who are standing near the back of the lobby, start laughing. It spreads. Soon nearly everyone's exploiting the chance to turn the tables. Kirstie's friends look horrified. This isn't supposed happen to them. Ever. Clearly, they'd entered some bizarro dimension. "Can't always get what you want," Connor says to Kirstie before winking his right eye. She runs off. Her three friends follow. Connor looks up and the ceiling and savors his victory. Angel's standing twenty feet in front of him on the landing before the front door. He's deeply dismayed by the fact that his son gets off on hurting people. Apparently there is more Angelus inside Connor than Angel would like to admit.

Elijah and Kit walk up to Connor. Eli congratulates his best friend and bumps his left fist into Connor's right fist. "Let's get something to eat," Connor suggests. Elijah puts his left arm around Kit's shoulder. She's standing to Connor's right, between the two men. The three of them walk out of the lobby, smiling and laughing, acting like they own the joint. Angel steps to Eli's right and watches them pass by. None of them notice Angel's proximity. The three of them are giving off a strong predatory scent that Angel can easily smell. He blames Eli. Angel's always believed that this boy was a bad influence on Connor. Like any parent, he blames peer pressure for leading his child astray.

NEXT: Angel gets national exposure. Giles gains international acclaim for something he wasn't even a part of. And Nina pops up in Los Angeles, looking to steal something from Wolfram & Hart and pound on the people who killed Mal. She's itching to make Angel and Connor pay.


	52. Goddesses and Monsters

Giles gets closer to the truth. Connor tries to defend his recent behavior to Angel and Cordy. And Nina gets a chance to wreak vengeance in LA.

While Buffy is out with Kate, Giles and Willow work at a table in the back left corner of the bunker's living room. Most of the rest of them are watching television in the front right section of the room. "I know I've seen it somewhere," Giles maintains. "Though I can't seem to find it in any of my books."

"What about these?," Willow asks, showing him illustrations in three different books.

"That one's Canaanite. That one's Luwian. And she's Libyan."

"Are you sure?"

"The clothes are very similar. But the hairstyle and the head dress are different."

"How do you know she has to be Egyptian?"

"The prophecy refers a Slayer from the Nile Delta. At least that's how Emiliano and I both interpreted the passage."

"He's the author?"

"Correct."

"You talk about him like he's your best friend. Even though he's been dead for 170 years. Then again, having a friend who's been dead that long wouldn't be too strange around here."

"I've spent a lot of time inside his head over the past two days. In his commentaries, Emiliano concludes that the Slayer in question lived about four thousand years ago during the Middle Kingdom period."

"What's so special about her?"

"She was worshipped for a time as incarnation of Isis."

"Not bad," Willow responds with surprise. "How'd she pull that off?"

"For a time, she was impervious to physical injury."

"So was Buffy. Remember, with Adam?"

"That was only for a matter of seconds. This Slayer was impervious for more than a year."

"Which means she must have had something a lot more powerful than our summoning spell."

"A physical object with extraordinary mystical properties, to be more specific. If we find a picture of her, we can spot the mystical object on her person. Then we'll know what we are looking for."

"Maybe you're going about this wrong. You're focusing on the Slayer angle. What about the goddess?"

"Good thinking. You can search through Isis worshipping. I'll continue with my Slayer research. I should probably give Claude a call. Is Dawn still on the phone?"

"I think so. Want me to get her off?"

"That's okay. It's past two in the morning over there. I'll try after he's awake and before I'm asleep." Buffy walks in. Giles, Willow, Xander and Anya turn to look at her.

"Where have you been?," Giles asks. Spike walks in from the kitchen. He's holding a mug of blood.

"It's been more than an hour," Spike notes. "Did I miss out on a good demon-thrashing."

"No thrashing. No demons. I went over check on my mother's grave. To see if the tombstone was still there. And it was. It had been knocked over and driven six feet to left. And about a foot into the ground. Guess the wave pushed it down. I pulled it out and put it back where it belonged."

"That was very good of you," Giles responds. "By the way, we're making progress."

"Giles is close to finding something that can make you invincible," Willow adds optimistically.

"Sounds peachy," Buffy nonchalantly comments. Giles decides to clarify.

"I'm close to discovering what the object is. Finding it is a whole other matter."

"So I can take the night off?," Buffy asks. She likes to keep the conversation light when it comes to discussing such momentous hypothetical.

"I don't see why not," Giles answers. As Buffy walks to her room, Spike steps in her way and sniffs her.

"Just for record, sniffing – not exactly a turn-on," Buffy tells him.

"You were with somebody. A lady."

"You think your nose can tell the difference?"

"Who was it?"

Buffy shakes her head. "You're being paranoid."

"Paranoid of what?," Anya asks. "Of you being a lesbian?"

"She's got a point," Spike adds.

"What? How?," a truly mystified Xander wonders.

"I got nothing to be paranoid of. I know you with someone. I'm just curious who it was. And why you're so hell-bent on keeping it a secret?"

"I'm not hell-bent on keeping anything a secret. You're the one who got in my face and started giving me the third degree."

"Stella called a half-hour ago," Giles reports, seemingly appropot of nothing. "She was wondering if I knew where Kate Lockley was. She hadn't come back."

"The cop!," Spike exclaims.

"She gave me ride to the cemetery. We talked on the way."

"What did you talk about?," Willow asks.

"Demons. Our jobs. Stuff like that."

"You talked with that woman," Spike begins. "For over an hour. Didn't know the copper was so chatty. She struck me as the sort who has something to hide."

"She's not," Buffy maintains. Spike, however, was on to something, even if he didn't know what. "Kate's nice."

"Not to me she wusn't," Spike pouts.

"I don't think you're her type," Kennedy jokes. She's right, though not in the way she means to be.

"I didn't know Buffy was," Anya notes. "I thought I was the one she liked."

"What are you talking about?," Buffy wonders with genuine perplexity.

"Lemme see if I got this right. After we went inside, Kate hung around to spend some one-on-one time with you?," Willow asks.

"No. She started driving around town. I was suspicious, and asked why she wasn't leaving. Then we got to talking, and I asked for a ride."

"You came over to her?," Willow reiterates.

"I guess. So what?"

"You think she took that the wrong way?," Kennedy asks Willow.

"What the hell are you trying to tiptoe around?," an unnerved Buffy demands to know. Willow cuts to the chase.

"No toe-tipping. Or tip-toeing. It sounds like you came across as a little forward. Running her down. Asking for a ride. You were really friendly. So she was really friendly. Maybe you led Kate on." Buffy finally gets it, and can't believe what she's hearing.

"You guys really need to get out more. Bunker fever has made you nuts. Kate is not gay."

"How do you know that?," Kennedy asks. "Did you two talk about guys?"

"No. God no! With my dating history? I didn't want to scare her away."

"So you just assume she's straight, because that' the normal' thing to be," Kennedy responds.

"I didn't mean it like that. And speaking of assumptions, why do you automatically assume she's gay?"

"Enough of this bloody nonsense," Spike interjects. "Rupert, she's your friend. You know her better than anyone here."

"Our relationship is purely professional. We never discuss our personal lives."

"Never discuss personal lives?," Xander responds incredulously. "Giles, she set you up with your girlfriend!"

"I thought she set his girlfriend up with him," Anya clarifies. "By the way, have you even thought of returning the favor? You do owe her."

"Anya, that's ridiculous."

"No. It's good manners."

"Who would Giles set her up with?," Willow wonders. "What single men does he know?"

"There's always Xander," Spike jokes. Buffy starts laughing.

"Oh, come on!," Xander exclaims. "Do you really find me that repulsive?"

"I'm sorry, Xander. It's not that you're not good enough for her. The two of you just aren't each other's types."

"Then what is her type?," Xander asks Buffy.

Angel angrily paces back and forth in Connor's room. Cordy stands on the other side of the bed. "Seething instead of brooding," she observe. "An interesting change for you."

"You think he's turned a corner. You think he finally gets it. Then he goes and does something like this."

"You mean like a teenager?"

"Cordy, he wasn't acting like them. Connor was acting like me. Like Angelus. He took pleasure in causing pain. She broke down in tears, and all I could see on his face was joy. It was sickening."

"It was vengeance."

"For what? What could that girl have possibly done to him?"

"She could have done something to Dawn. Maybe she and Kirstie didn't get along. This might have been his twisted idea of chivalry."

"Like when he nailed my hands to the table."

"Hold on just a second. Connor did what?"

"I sired three of her friends. Well, one friend, and two other kids she went to school with. They attacked her – when she was with Connor. After I got my soul back, that was his way of getting even."

"Oh my God. Angel, that's horrible."

"I was evil."

"Not that. Connor crucifying you. Granted, your thing was also pretty bad. But that wasn't you. Connor should have known that."

"Part of him did. He told me he loved me."

"Before? Or after?"

"Right after. First time he ever said that. Then he hugged me. First time he ever did that." Confused is perplexed and worried about the boy.

"Maybe there's some sort of medication he should be on. God knows he's been through enough to put ten normal men in the loony bin."

"He was letting off steam. Learning about Buffy – how I lost my soul with her, but didn't with Darla – that made him feel like an accident."

"Accident – miracle – it's the same thing when you get down to it."

"But we've been getting along great ever since. By our standards, at least. I thought we were really connecting."

"It's my fault," a distressed Cordy argues. "I messed with his head so much when I was evil. Plus, there's his whole nightmare childhood with Holtz. Guess it'll take time to work all the bad blood and bad habits out of his system."

"Quiet," Angel says as he stands still. "He's coming." Angel can hear Connor coming down the hall. He's happily humming the keyboard riff from Dre's "Nuthin' but a G Thang." Connor enters, and immediately stops humming when he sees that he has visitors.

"What are you two doing here?," Connor asks suspiciously. He notices that both of them have their arms folded and are scowling angrily. "Is something wrong?"

Cordy slowly walks up to him. "I just spent the better part of a half-hour listening to Kirstie cry her eyes out." Connor grins. Cordelia slaps his face with her right hand. He winces in pain.

"Ow! What the hell was that for? And why do you care about her?"

"I don't know. Because she's a person?," Angel sarcastically responds to Connor's heartlessness.

"Shouldn't you care about people who are really in trouble?," Connor asks Cordy. "I thought we cared about saving lives."

"We also care about you," Angel counters. "I don't like seeing my son hurt someone for kicks. You're better than that, Connor. You're a champion, not a bully."

"She deserved it," Connor sullenly replies.

"What could she possibly have done to deserve that from you?," a genuinely mystified Angel demands to know. Connor's face tightens with anger and intensity.

"She hurt Dawn. She made Dawn cry. Said a lot of mean things about her when Dawn was in a lot of pain."

"When?," Angel asks.

"Two years ago."

"Two years ago," Cordy repeats in astonishment. "Back before you were even born."

"So what?"

"Connor, in high school, two year is an eternity," Cordy explains. "There are statutes of limitations."

"Did Dawn tell you about this?," Angel inquires.

"No. One of Dawn's old friends mentioned it to me today."

"She wanted you to hurt Kirstie?," Angel asks, trying to lead Connor to the proper conclusion.

"No. She just mentioned it when she saw Kirstie."

"Would Dawn have wanted you to do this?"

"Probably not." Angel is surprised by how easily Connor concedes this point.

"Then why did you do it?," Cordy asks.

"Because nobody hurts Dawn and gets away with it."

"Even if she doesn't want that?," Angel follows up.

"She's not here."

"You think can do things she doesn't want you to do, so long as she doesn't find out?"

"It's not like that. Look, I love her. A lot. And when I find out someone hurt her, it makes me mad. Dawn doesn't like it when I'm mad. But she's not around to help me chill, so I can't chill. And I stay mad until I make things right."

"You mean until you settle the score," Angel clarifies.

"It's better than staying mad and taking it out on you guys. And come on! I only hurt her feelings. She deserved it. That's why everyone was happy."

"You were playing to the worst in them," Angel explains. "Using the worst in yourself."

"You know that's not my worst," Connor responds with a smirk. "Not even close."

"It wasn't even close to your best, either," Cordy points out.

"I know," Connor confesses with a tinge of contrition. "But since when did I have to be a saint? I guess I'm just a better person when Dawn's around." Angel fears where this logic could lead. (Let me be with Dawn, or else?) But he tries to use Connor's feelings to reinforce Angel's argument.

"I think she'd want you to be a better person, even when she isn't around. Don't you?"

"Of course."

"So what's the problem?," Angel wonders. "Why did you let her down? Are you just weak?" Connor's amazed by how upset they are.

"This is mad whack. You're buggin' over nothing." Angel looks a Cordy, hoping at least one of them understood him.

"We just don't want you turning into a complete jerk and making a habit out of acting like this," she tells him.

"It's the sort of thing you only do once," Connor pledges. They look relieved. "Now that everyone knows the trick, it won't work the next time round." They look a lot less relieved. "Chill. How many other people coulda made Dawn cry?"

"That depends how unpopular and/or annoying she was," Cordy responds without thinking. "Also, how tough she was."

"She's very tough."

"Having demons trying to kill you can do that. I know from experience. Angel, I think Lorne wanted to have a word with you."

"About what? Oh." Angel takes the hint and leaves. Since Cordy knows more about being a modern adolescent, she convinced Angel to let her handle the non-moral aspects of the lecture. During the lull, Connor recalls something.

"Why were you talking with Kirstie? How do you know her?"

"When I was head cheerleader in high school, she was captain of the junior high squad. We met once. Of course I don't remember, because why would I care about some dopey pre-teen? But Kirstie remembered. Mostly because I was kind of her idol. I mean role model. Or maybe both."

"She's nothing like you."

"That's sweet of you to say," Cordy replies, affectionately but condescendingly patting the top of Connor's head.

"Is that what you were like?"

"Not completely. I was a little taller and a lot prettier."

"I know," Connor replies with a smile. "But, were you mean like her?"

Cordy takes a long pause. "Sometimes. But everyone is at that age. Though you could say I was a lot better at it than just about anyone." Connor looks crushed, and sits down on the bed.

"You hurt people."

"That wasn't the point. Look Connor. It's really sweet that you're so crushed to learn that I wasn't always perfect, and that I used to be mean self-centered and didn't care about other people's suffering."

"You? Not caring? I don't believe it." Cordelia doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"If we had my high school reunion here, saying that would definitely get the whole lobby laughing. Connor, relax. This sort of thing isn't evil. It's just high school. Even for people whose high schools aren't on the mouth of Hell. It's survival of the fittest. Everyone tries to pull themselves up by pushing everybody else down. That's the way kids are."

"I thought that's just how the mean kids acted."

"Everyone's mean to someone. You earn your status by making fun of the people below you. I was the most popular. Which meant that everyone was below me." Cordy's feeling the need to take the scrutiny off herself by reiterating the universality of this sort of pecking order. "And Buffy was the most popular at whatever loser school she went to before getting kicked out and moving the Sunnydale. So she would have acted to same way."

"She still does," Connor unfairly quips, displaying the anti-Buffy bias that Cordelia finds so refreshing.

"And if Dawn was the most popular in high school – Which, based on all the great things you say about her, I'm sure she would have been if she didn't have that Key Problem and an embarrassing older sister – she would have acted just like that to the people she didn't like. When you're popular, you have to impress your friends and cronies. Otherwise one of them takes your place, and starts making fun of you. Which isn't very fun." Then something occurs to Cordy. "In fact, that's what YOU were doing! You make fun of her, everyone laughs, you're placing yourself at the top of the pyramid. At least for a moment. You obviously liked the rush. Everyone was on your side. Made you feel pretty special, didn't it?"

"A little. I guess," Connor confesses with a reluctant half-smile.

"At that moment, you were no better than Kirstie."

"LIke I said, it was a one time thing. Unless someone disses Dawn. Or me. Or my mom."

"Connor, I'm pretty sure that if they knew who your parents were, they're not going to risk insulting you."

After he left the room, Angel started thinking about Lorne. He hadn't seen him all evening. It's past midnight. The lobby is deserted. Angel finds Wesley in the office. "Still looking for the amulet?"

"Actually, I found it three hours ago. Under a boulder in a backyard in Rolling Hills. Gunn delivered it to the client. Cordelia will deposit the five thousand dollar check into our firm's account tomorrow morning."

"That's a nice payday. And I didn't do a thing to earn it. It's great to delegate," Angel jokes. He hits down on the couch. "Have you seen Lorne?"

"He's in the basement. At his brand-new late-night hangout."

"What hangout?"

In the ballroom in the basement, where Angel's friends shed so much blood, blood that has now been thoroughly washed away, Lorne sits at the piano, surrounded by about thirty mildly inebriated men and women. They raise their glasses at the end of the verse and sing the chorus along with him:

"Those . . . were . . the days my friend, I thought they'd never end, we'd sing and dance . . . "

Giles, Willow and Dawn sit around the table in the back of the living room, doing research. The phone rings. Dawn picks it up. "Hello. Who? Giles, it's for you. Not sure who." He takes the phone.

"Rupert Giles. Hello Annette. Is your father there? Oh. You've been working on this as well. And you think you found her!?" Willow gets excited upon hearing this. "A U-R-what? Annie, I don't follow. It involves a computer. There's no other way? Willow, I think you should take this one."

"Willow here."

"Do you have access to the net?"

"We don't have much else, but we do have that."

"Good. Go to this address." Annette slowly reads out the address while Willow types. As the page is loading, Annette explains.

"I asked myself who would want people to know about this girl?' Not the Council. She was a rebel. Not Isis worshippers. She failed them. Then it came to me – feminist antiquarians. Like Lyn Webster Wilde and her book on women warriors."

"You read that?" Willow's delighted to be talking to a fellow geek.

"I liked the chapter on Cybele worship."

"Me too! Then again, I am partial for the Earth goddesses." The web page is loaded. Willow's confused by what she sees. "Wait a second. This is a guy."

"She is dressed like a Pharaoh."

"Right down to the fake beard. Which is never flattering on any girl."

"But she has long hair. And look at what she's holding in her hands." The person in the picture was seated on a throne with her arms crossed in front of her chest. In her left hand was a sickle sword. In her right hand was a stake. That catches Willow's eye. "Instead of a mace, she's holding a stake. That is suspicious, no?"

"Definitely. What's this caption say? Warrior princess. Heretical worshipper of Neith who tried to overthrow the government and establish matriarchal rule."

"They don't know what they're looking at. But read the next part."

"Her followers claimed no man-made weapon could harm her. While sleeping one night on the banks of the Nile, she was eaten by a crocodile. The High Priests claimed the animal was actually the god Ammit, the devourer of the wicked."

"My father says Egyptian Slayers were usually buried in the Pharaohs' tombs, but have been mistaken for servants by archeologists. As a reward for protecting the bodies of the living from demons, Slayers spent eternity with Neith, who protected the souls of the dead from demons. This Slayer didn't follow the rules, so she disappears from the records. But one of her followers carved a picture of her on a piece of limestone that gets buried in the sand and preserved. Lucky for you."

"Yeah. Lucky us," Willow deadpans about their unenviable position. "Thanks, by the way."

"No trouble. Good luck." Willow hangs up the phone, prints out what's on the screen and takes it over to Giles.

"Of course," he says to himself upon seeing the picture. "I should have known."

"About this Slayer in drag?"

"About the weapons. They're the power source. We have to find them before Nina."

"How do we do that?," Willow wonders. "Cause you've read that book cover-to-cover and back again, and I think you would have noticed if it mentioned where the magic weapons were."

"If they're around here, you should be able to find them with a locater spell. Unless they're cloaked."

"In which case I would do an uncloaking spell. So who should I invoke? Isis or Neith? Or should I try both at the same time? And by the way, who made these weapons?"

Giles flips through the pages and glances at his notes. "Here it is. The Reaper harvests the Slayers.' It's not a reference to the First, or its minions. It's about this weapon. There's a brief story on this page, just a few sentences long, about a Harvester that kills many Slayers, until the demon is staked."

"Sounds pretty standard issue to me."

"It did to me as well. But what if the Harvester is this sickle? Say, for instance, that a vampire used the weapon forty centuries ago to kill a couple Slayers. The Watchers responded to the threat with a mystically-charged weapon of their own."

Willow finishes Rupert's hypothetical. "Slayer stakes vampire, takes his tool, becomes a Super-Slayer. The double shot of mojo makes her invincible. Unless, you know, she gets swallowed alive while you're napping. Which we could easily protect Buffy against."

"Better get to work," Giles says, stating the obvious as Willow walks away from him and towards her room.

"Way ahead of you." She leaves. Buffy walks up to Giles.

"You two sounded pretty peppy. Good news?"

"It could be. I doubt Nina will let us have our secret weapons without a fight."

"What secret weapons?"

"Look at this picture."

"Buffy! Buffy, you have to see this!," Anya calls out, annoying Buffy.

"Maybe later."

"She's right, B," Faith chimes in.

"I don't believe this," Xander exclaims. "Why does Angel get all the glory? He didn't do anything." That catches Buffy's attention.

"What about Angel?"

"He's on tv," Anya explains. "That's what I was trying to tell you. And look. There are his friends. Oh my. Wesley does look far more masculine than I remembered." Buffy rushes over. As does Dawn, who was sitting with Giles.

"Is Connor on? Are they showing him?" She smiles and sighs. "There he is. He's standing funny. Is he hurt? Are we taping this?"

"What's all this commotion about?," Giles demands to know as he walks over to the television. He's standing behind the couches everyone is either on or sitting in front of. "Why the devil is Angel on the tele?" Buffy stares at the screen, not saying a word. This is too surreal for words. The Potentials scan the background of the camera shots in the lobby for their boyfriends.

"Is that Clarence?," Amanda asks Rona. "I thought I saw part of his head for a second there."

"Talk about undeserved fame," Xander grouses. "They showed up on their own. All he did was not kick them out. How is that heroism?"

"What does fame have to do with heroism?," Anya asks him.

"Okay, wrong word. But he hasn't done anything. The people who crashed his place did everything. In fact, he's being praised for doing nothing. What kind of responsible newscast celebrates laziness?"

"Oh God. They're interviewing Cordelia," Buffy notes with mild revulsion. "Boy, does she look old beyond her years." She couldn't resist a catty comment, as surely Cordy couldn't if she saw Buffy on tv. They listen to Cordelia talk.

"Sunnydale is my home town, and I feel a strong connection to its people. I told Angel that we should help them in their hour of greatest need. This is the community that raised me. With so many suffering, I needed to give something back. It's the least I could do."

"He's going to let her get away with that? He's praising her! I don't believe it. Can't he tell when he's getting used and lied to? This is a disgrace."

"At least her last sentence was true," Anya jokes. "And the reporter is bad at asking questions. He didn't even find out if Angel was charging them for the rooms."

Buffy's still angry about Cordy's moment in the spotlight. "So now thousands of people, maybe hundreds of thousands, will think that Cordelia's some Good Samaritan local girl made good. I'm the local girl made good. And I have the Class Protector Award to prove it."

"This is great free advertising," Anya notes. "If they wanted to turn it into a real hotel, I mean. People all over the nation saw their sumptuous interior."

"You mean the one I rebuilt," Xander adds.

"For which you were very well-compensated," she reminds him.

"Nation?," Buffy wonders. "That looked local to me."

"It was produced by the local affiliate, but the network picked it up," Andrew explains. "They're always looking for the human side of a natural disaster."

"We're the human side of this disaster," Buffy reminds him.

"Yes we are. But as a super hero, you must toil in obscurity, the world never knowing how much you've done to keeping it spinning through the heavens."

"Then why does a vampire get to bask in the limelight?," Xander asks.

"Good point." Andrew strokes his chin and thinks about this paradox. "He must not be playing by the rules."

Nina walks along the beach barefoot. The hem of her black dress skims the sand. Over her face is a long black veil. Darla pops up in front of her. Nina can't see her on account of the veil. Darla reaches out and rips it off. She's mad at her moping, brooding assassin. "In all my years, in all the ages, NEVER have I seen you like this. Have you no shame?"

"I have nothing."

"Except for me." Darla puts her right hand to Nina's left cheek. Nina holds it with her left hand.

"You look good," she says to Darla, who's wearing tight black leather pants and gold halter top.

"You like?," Darla asks with a flirtatious smile, trying to cheer Nina up.

"A lot more than that other outfit," referring to the school girl look Darla had first adopted. Darla pulls her right hand away from Nina and puts her arms behind her back. She smiles mischievously, and is disappointed when Nina doesn't smile back.

"I wish I could say the same for you. What's with all the black? Even your hair's gone dark. It must be all that ugly sleep you've been getting. For two days straight!"

"I don't sleep."

"That's why it worries me. You've never done it before."

"I can't sleep. But I can dream. It's been so long since I had anyone to dream about."

"You haven't forgotten about Mal. I'm glad. Because I have a little job for you. In Los Angeles." For the first time in three days, Nina smiles. Then some doubts start creeping in.

"I thought those two were off-limits?"

"Only if they don't get in your way."

"Which means, all I have to do is make them attack me. Yes!!" Darla is delighted to see the fire return to Nina's eyes. She puts her right arm around Nina's shoulders. The two of them walk down the beach as Darla explains the mission.

"There's only one way to get rid of pain," Darla tells Nina. "Make someone else feel it."

"I'll do more than that. I'll make them wish they never killed Mal. No. Not good enough. I got it. I'll make them wish Mal killed them."


	53. Evil Against Evil

In the late afternoon, Andrew rushes back inside the bunker, struggling for breath and obviously excited. "Buffy! Giles! Faith! You have to see this!"

"See what, exactly?," Giles enquires.

"The Hellmouth's under construction. No. What I meant to say was, Something's under construction at the Hellmouth."

"The arena?," Giles guesses.

"I don't know. It's not done. But it's big. And metal."

The four of them rush to the site, where Xander's inspecting the First's handiwork. It's the skeleton for a dome one hundred and twenty feet wide and sixty feet high. Planted into the ground every fifteen feet to form a circle are twenty four steel columns. Each curved column is sixty feet long, reaching two-thirds of the way to the apex. The debris inside the circle has been cleared and the ground flattened to form a smooth dirt floor.

"Where the Hell did this come from?," Faith wonders.

"Right here," Xander explains. "I can tell from the markings on the beams. The school's frame was built with thirty foot I-beams. Each of these columns is made from two beams bent and riveted together. I'm guessing they did all that off-site, and surfaced at night to put it up."

"And by off-site, you mean the other side of the Hellmouth?," Buffy asks. "If that's possible. Is it, Giles?" He thinks about this.

"I suppose it would have to be," he concedes. The uber-vamp had to come from somewhere.

"They've stripped all the brick within a hundred feet of the 'Mouth," Xander points out. "I'm guessing this is just the start."

"Why would the First go to all this trouble?," Faith asks. "What's it gotta do with killing us?"

"Uber-vamps," Buffy guesses. "They might need a roof, in case the big fight's in the daytime."

"Uber-vamp?," Faith asks. "What's that?"

"Like a super-vampire," Buffy explains. "Faster, stronger, uglier."

"Damn. I thought Nina was all we had left to worry about."

"Where is she?," Xander asks. "Not that I've missed her wanton killing and maiming. But it's been a while."

"We have to get back," a suddenly anxious Giles announces. "Willow has probably finished her locator spell by now." They all rush to Xander's truck.

"Super-weapons, he we come," Buffy declares with less-than-complete conviction. "I hope."

Nina strolls into the lobby of Wolfram & Hart at half past four in the afternoon. She's wearing a black rubber jumpsuit. Her hair is pink, and about a foot shorter, going less than halfway down her back. She gets some very confused looks from the people in business suits as they catch sight of her. Nina's serene expression hides her pre-fight giddiness. She loves this time, the moment before she alters a lot of people's reality forever. Nina likes to think of herself as an artist. Right now, the building's her canvas, the people her paints. She walks up to the information desk, where a very confused security guard looks at her.

"Can I help you, ma'am?," he asks with a slight tremble in his voice. He can tell there's something very wrong about this women. And it's not just the costume. Human beings don't have eyes that glow like hers.

"Thanks," she replies, reaching her right hand out and ripping his eyeballs from their sockets. He screams. She spins the eyes around in her right hand like two metal balls. She can't take the screaming. So she reaches back and picks the man up with her left hand. Six security guards rush towards her and open fire. She holds the man's body in front of hers. The bullets put him out of his misery. "You're welcome," she adds before tossing him to the ground and flicking his eyes across the smooth stone floor like marbles. The pistol fire has no effect. She rips out one of the shooter's hearts. The other five flee in terror. She catches three, twisting the head off one, prying open the chest of another, and pulling part of the spine out of the third.

Now the firm's shock troops swing into action. Ten para-militaries in black come from the left, ten more from the right, and ten others repel down ropes from the third floor. Nina thinks it looks like they're falling from the ceiling. "It really is raining men." Nina gallops in their direction, leaps in the air, grabs one of the commandos twenty feet off the ground, snaps his neck and then lands on the ground. A little over a second later, the corpse tumbles to the floor in full view of his comrades. "Hallelujah." A man to her right opens fire. Nina turns, leaps at him and kicks him in the face. His body flies backwards into a wall, splitting the back of his head open. Nina spins around, flies at the nearest fighter, who is fifteen feet away, rips the AR-15 out of his hands and bludgeons his head with the butt of the weapon three times, killing him. "What does this do?," she asks the other men about the weapon she's holding. They keep shooting, pouring dozens of small caliber rounds through her body. She figures it out, and mimics the commandos by pointing the weapon at them and pulling the trigger of the semiautomatic again and again. Nina laughs as she empties the clip and blows away seven of her attackers. "Guess they only work against your kind," she says with an ironic shrug. Two more commandoes come at her from behind with stun guns. Nina feels a slight tingle as they pump enough current through her to take down a large bull. She reaches her arms back and hits each guy in the nose with the backs of her hands. They fall down. Nina turns and steps on their throats, crushing their tracheas. A third commando charges at her and drives a twelve inch-long dagger into her chest. She severs his adam's apple with a quick left chop. He falls to his knees and gasps for breath. "Thanks," Nina says, pulling the large knife out of her body jabbing it into the top of his skull. She holds onto her new weapon as she walks back towards the front of the lobby.

The men in that section, who've witnessed her fearsome wrath, bunch together and back away. Suddenly, ten men come out of nowhere and attack Nina from behind and to her left. Ten more charge her right flank. The men in front of her join in the attack. "I love it when they don't run away," Nina says with a smile. "Makes the killing go quicker." She kicks and punches and stabs and slashes and spins around, repelling or killing all who get within range. The front ranks fly away as the men behind them continue to charge Nina. After fighting off fifteen men in ten seconds, the rest of the attackers lose heart. They retreat in fear and confusion, then bunch together for safety and decide to protect the elevators and stairwells. Nina occupies herself finishing off the wounded. Then steel barriers come down in front of all windows and doors. "No! No!!!," Nina screams out as she eviscerates her enemies. She picks up one of the living. "Who's doing this? Where is he!!?" The terrified man points, and Nina, her hands on either side of his head, drags him along in that direction. She kicks open a locked door and sees a control room with where one man sits in front of monitors and buttons. "The building stays open," she commands. "The building stays open!" Nina brings her hands together, smushing the young man's skull. The commander sees the dead guy's eyes pop out of their sockets. He gets the message. The barriers go back up. Nina grabs his hair and tilts his head up so he's looking into her eyes. "Keep it open, and I'll let you live." Nina walks back out into the lobby. The fighters she has yet to kill know that if they flee, Wolfram & Hart will kill them. They've taken up a strong defensive position in front of the routes upstairs. They viewed the barrier going up as a good sign, an indication that their job is not to kill this thing, but to convince it to leave.

Nina's seen this a thousand times before. Human or demon, they always made their last stand huddled together for mutual protection. Six tear gas canisters are launched in her direction, falling at her feet. She finds the smell pungent, but not incapacitating in the least. Nina stops ten yards away from them. She waits for five seconds. There's a window behind the men. It's high up, but large enough for the men to climb out of. But her proximity causes none of them to waver. "What are you dying for?," she asks. The First had told her that the people in this building didn't have anything against evil. In fact, they rather liked evil. Certainly these pawns weren't fighting to protect what Nina was there to steal. They were too insignificant to know of its existence. "That's what I thought," she says in response to their terrified silence. "Don't know what you're dying for, don't deserve to live." Nina hurls the knife through the forehead of one of the commandos and leaps at the phalanx with ferocious speed, breaking straight through the center of the formation at knocking eight men to the ground, two of whose necks she snaps. Now her back's to the wall, rows of elevators on either side of this twelve foot-wide alley. The seventeen remaining men think they have her trapped. When she attacks, they stick her with daggers and stakes and tasers and anything else they have, all to no avail. As she tosses them back, they resort to using their fists and feet. She crushes a few of their hands before hurling the men back into the lobby, where she finishes off the isolated, dazed and demoralized fighters in typically gruesome fashion. Having fought to save her family and friends, Nina has nothing but contempt for those who fight simply because it's their job. People like Buffy she can respect. With resistance crushed and the building unsealed, Nina leaps in the air, does a forward flip and lands on the walkway some of the commandos came down from. It was time to make her presence known to every last person in the building.

In the sleepy Connecticut town of Star's Hollow, Rory and Paris watch tv after school in Lane's bedroom. Paris sits to Rory's left, and Lane to her right. "Talk Back Live? Please change it," Paris suggests. "I don't watch the news to listen to the lumpenproletariat spout off on issues they don't even understand. No, not Fox. That's just Pravda for Young Republicans. What's on C-Span3?" Lane ignores her and surfs through the channels.

"Stop! Go back. Go back," Rory tells her. "I don't believe it. I can't believe it. This is so surreal. It's him."

"Who?," Lane wonders.

"The boy who helped Jess and me."

"When you were in Los Angeles?"

"So he's the one who saved you from the vampire," Paris jokes.

"The joke's just as stupid and unfunny as the last fifty two times you've told it."

"Fine, Rory. From now on, I'll refer to him as the man-like creature who bit your neck, causing you to wear turtlenecks for the past eight days." Connor's on screen standing next to Angel.

"He's cute," Lane observes.

"Very cute," Paris adds. "His older brother's also very easy on the eyes."

"Actually, that's his father," Rory explains.

"So he became a father at what – age twelve? And where's the mom? Oh, and by the way, why are they on the news?"

"I don't know. Dead. Something to do with Sunnydale."

"Is that the town that supposedly was completely destroyed on Saturday with absolutely no loss of life, where the military's keeping all the journalists out and won't even let the people who lived there search the wreckage for their belongings?"

"It does raise a few questions for which there are no rational answers."

"My mom thinks the earthquake set the stage for a climactic battle between the forces of good and evil," Lane reports.

"Does she view every disaster in biblical terms?," Paris asks with mild scorn.

"No. Just this one. And she doesn't say why."

"Is California mentioned in Revelation? That would make sense," Rory quips.

"Enough about the phony apocalypse," Paris declares. "Get back to what matters. Tell us about this guy."

"Oh. Right. Connor." She ponders him for a couple seconds. Connor was . . . odd."

"He looks norman enough," Lane comments.

"He is. Until he opens his mouth."

"Cute, but dumb. A depressingly familiar combination," Paris notes.

"No. He didn't sound dumb. He sounded like, well, and I know this may sound crazy, but he sounded like a noble savage."

"I Connor, you Rory?," Lane jokes. Paris laughs.

"He wasn't that bad. He spoke in complete sentences. For the most part. And get this: He said he liked smart girls. As if that was a turn-on for him. How many guys our age say that?"

"Especially in Los Angeles, of all places," Paris adds.

Lane smiles as she sees Connor on-screen for a couple more seconds before the story ends. "Wow. He saves lives. He has that cute, puppy dog vulnerability thing going for him. And he prefers girls with brains. Did you get his phone number?"

"I've only been single for a month now. I'm a long way from being desperate enough to travel three thousand miles for a date."

"Maybe you don't have to," Paris speculates. "You said he was our age. What school is he going to?"

Rory laughs. "Connor doesn't go to school. In fact, I got the distinct sense that he never has."

"It sounds like your journalistic instincts failed you on this one," Paris argues. "Dating material or freak curiosity, there has to be one helluva story beneath those clear aqua eyes and soft ruby lips."

Rory's a little alarmed at her two best friends' interest in this odd boy they've never even met. "First of all, down girl. Don't you have a boyfriend?"

"That doesn't mean I don't still have eyes."

"Second, my journalistic instincts told me that his story was one that he didn't want to tell and I wouldn't want to hear. Sometimes scratching the surface only produces blood and pain."

Around noon, Cordelia walks into Angel's room. "Angel, there's something important I have to tell you."

"What is it?," he weakly replies, caught off-guard by her declaration.

"I'm leaving Los Angeles." This catches him even more off-guard.

"What!?," Angel exclaims as he bounds out of his chair.

"Don't act so surprised. I don't belong here, now."

"Cordy, that's ridiculous. I need you."

"You did. But not anymore."

"How can you say that?"

"How can I not? You've already gone nearly a year without me."

"And look what happened. My life was a mess."

"Thanks largely to me. Or the creature that was using my body."

"I don't know what to say. How long have you felt like this?"

"Since I came back. I've been doing a lot of thinking about my life, and about how I fit into your life. I've realized the problems started for both of us when I began trying too hard to be in your life. Ever since I chose to become part-demon. From that day on, it's been a long, freaky, painful downward spiral for both of us."

"And none of that was your fault."

"Angel, just because you have a lot to feel guilty for doesn't mean you have to feel guilty for everything. This was my screw-up. People pay a price for wanting too much power, even if that power's for doing good. Okay, I pay a price. Others can get away with it, even if they royally abuse their power, go evil and try to destroy the planet But not me. I guess I'm held to some higher standard." She's obviously alluding to Willow, not doubt with a tinge of bitterness.

"Where are you going? What do you plan to do?" Right then, the phone rings. "Hello? Fred. What did you say?" He hangs up. "We may have a small emergency on our hands."

"Off to the Batcave. We can finish this later." Cordy's relieved to postpone the rest of this difficult conversation. They both rush downstairs. First, the tantalizing possibility that the Curse has been lifted. Then, his best and oldest friend says she wants to head off to parts unknown. Angel has a lot on his mind. And that's before he learns of the new emergency. Wes, Gunn, Fred and Lorne are already in the office when Angel and Cordy enter.

"Okay. Ah see. No, you're not the first. Yes, we'll be sure to look into it." Fred hangs up the phone. Immediately, it rings. "Wolfram and Hart? Lucky guess. Uh-huh. We are aware of the situation inside your building. Yes, ah know what's inside a person's. You don't need to try to draw me a verbal picture. Oh. The jaw was removed and stuck in between the liver and stomach. And the eyes were placed where the knee caps had been. Yes, that is highly unusual behavior for a demon. Good thing you made it out. You want help? Okay. Here's some advice. Don't go back in." She hangs up the phone, and is relieved when it doesn't ring right away. "That's the eighteenth call in the past past fifteen minutes. Don't they know we're their enemies?"

"They must also know we're good at what we do," Gunn replies.

"And they must be pretty desperate," Cordy adds.

"Remember the last thing to make them this desperate?," Lorne reminds his friends.

"It could be a trick," Angel warns.

"A psychotic catwoman," Wesley recalls. "Am I the only one who found that a little – "

"Lame?," Cordy guesses.

"I was going to say dubious. But that too. If this were a real emergency, why hasn't the building been shut tight like before? And if this catwoman' is such an unstoppable killer, why has she let so many people escape?"

"If it's fake, then they've sprung for some really great actors," Fred concludes. "Angel, these people sounded scared out of their minds." The phone rings. "Hello? Yes, we know. We're working on it right now." She hangs up. "Another lawyer sounding like he just watched the Hindenburg go down in flames."

"I don't see the harm in investigating," Wesley argues. "We take a look inside. If they're lying, and the lobby is not covered with entrails, we leave before anything can harm us."

"And what if they're not lying?," Cordy asks with dread.

"Then sooner of later we'll have to fight whatever did this," Angel explains. "I vote for sooner." Lorne meekly raises his hand.

"And I vote for waiting and seeing if it attacks the good guys. Assume some monster – "

"Sexy, pink-haired monster," Fred corrects him. Wes and Gunn give her weird looks. "I'm just repeating what they told me."

Lorne continues. "Sexy or not, the first thing it did when it came to this town was go after the bad guys. The Beast took out a heckuva lot of innocents before it set its sights on the guilty. We know that firm works its very dark mojo in other dimensions. Maybe it – or she – came here to for some payback. And what happens you confront this killing machine inside Wolfram & Hart? Won't it assume that you're one of the bad guys?"

"I can't let a mass killer loose on the streets." Cordy raises her eyebrows. "Again," he clarifies, remembering how he let Darla and Drusilla chow down on those lawyers. "And I won't be alone. I'll have Connor. I'll have all of you."

"Are you and Connor even at full strength?," Cordy wonders.

"I know I am. Let me go ask him." Angel leaves. Cordelia wonders if she should have waited before springer her big news. However, it's better she told Angel before this latest assignment came up. In a few hour, he'd have even more on his mind. Including Buffy's safety. Especially Buffy's safety.

On the twenty-fifth floor, Clay walks into David's office. He's wearing a blue shirt, yellow tie and white suit, as well as white shoes so polished you could see your face in them. David wears more muted and conventional office attire. "Notice the chaos downstairs?," Clay asks Dave as he puts his hands in his pockets and strolls over to David's desk. "Things haven't been this hectic around here since, well, since before we were here."

"This isn't chaos. It's destruction."

"You sound worried. So why aren't you tucked away in your executive panic room?" This was one of the post-Beast additions.

"I haven't received the go ahead."

"Only as brave as your boss requires."

"That really means a lot coming from a snake like yourself."

"Why thank you," Clayton replies, acting as if the insult was a compliment. "I am quite serpentine." This was the other side of the glibness that infuriated colleagues and enemies alike. Clayton couldn't be bothered by any setback, or injured by any insult. It was as if he bathed every morning in teflon. Or so he wanted everyone to believe.

"I assume you received the memo on Angel."

"I knew long before the memo," Clayton replies with a sly half-smile. "Fabulous news. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Are you joking? He's lost his Achilles' Heel. The one way we could get to him has been eliminated."

"All valid points. But they miss what really matters. Angel losing his soul doesn't help us that much. He'd get it back within the week. What does help us is Angel losing the will to fight. Morale is a lot harder to to regain than a measly soul. Morale is sapped by misery. This new development ensures that Angel will be even more miserable than before."

"I don't see how," David scoffs. Clay like to play the contrarian, and he loves to b.s., but this is extravagant even by his standards. 

"What's worse – not getting what you want when you know you can't have it, or not getting what you want when you know you can?"

"And what do you think will keep him from getting it?"

"The way of the world. Luck is not on his side. Things will break wrong. Events beyond our control will intervene. Angel will be denied. Face it, he's Tantalus."

"Except that now the Gods have decided to let him drink the water and eat the cakes."

"If I'm wrong about this, then Angel is not the One. The vampire in those prophecies the Senior Partners put so much stock in must earn his humanity through suffering. Perfect happiness and suffering are diametrical opposites. Either his suffering increases, or this company's been barking up the wrong tree for the last four years."

David chuckles. "Always the hypocrite. I thought you make a point of not caring about Angel?"

"I make a point of not worrying about him."

"Do you worry about anything?" The phone rings. "I understand. Will do." David hangs up and rushes out of his office. Clay follows him.

"What's the latest?"

"It's reached the twentieth floor." Clayton gasps and runs for the stairwell. "Clay! Our room's on this floor! Where the hell are you going?"

"Down."

"It's your funeral," David replies with a shrug. He makes his way for safety while Clayton sprints down seven flights of stairs and emerges on the eighteenth floor. He rushes towards a metal door guarded by two large men. Clay stops right in front of them to catch his breath.

"Can we help you?," one of them asks. He sucks in air for ten more seconds before answering.

"Yes," he replies before taking a few more breaths. "You can let me in."

"I'm sorry sir. We can't do that."

Clayton's usually serene face turns nasty. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"Yeah. A lawyer. Which means you're on the wrong floor. This is mystics and magic. However much of a big shot you are in legal, you have no authority here."

"Let me in, or you'll regret it." The two burly guards chuckle. Clayton hits the one to his left with a left uppercut to the chin. The guard to his right sticks out the stun gun that's in his right hand. Clayton grabs his right hand and pulls the stun gun to the left, hitting the other guard as he tries to attack Clay. He collapses. Clayton pulls the right wrist of the other guard behind his back and spins him around, pushing his face into the door. Clayton jams the stun gun into back, causing this guard to collapse. Clay takes the gun and shocks each man two more times to make sure they're out. "Told you." He takes out one of their cards swipes it to unlock the door, and he walks inside. Thirty feet to his left is a gray marble table, around which sit four bald women in sleeveless black gowns. Shooting out of the middle of the table is a foot-high blue flame. Standing between them and Clayton is a small man in a red robe with a golden belt. He is bald, save for single a long, black lock of hair coming out of the top of his head, falling over his left ear and resting behind his left shoulder. He is outraged by the presence of an intruder.

"Do you know what happens to men who violate our sanctity?," the outraged priest demands to know. Clayton makes his way for the table, barely noticing the man who stands in his way.

"Relax old man. I'm just here to do your job for you."

"Who do you think you are?," he asks while contemplating all the things he can do to hurt a Wolfram & Hart employee without running afoul of the Senior Partners.

"A guy who cares." He decks the priest with a right hook. "Which is much more than I can say for you." Clayton stares at the woman who sits at the back of the table. All of them have their heads down, their eyes closed. They chant as if in a deep trance. But once he gets within fifteen feet, she opens her eyes, lifts her head up, sees him, smiles and leaps to her feet. The flame turns red. The other three women cry out in agony. She pays no attention, turning away from them and wrapping her arms around Clayton's broad shoulders. He puts his hands on her bare head, smiles and touches his forehead to hers, staring into her green eyes. She's tall and powerfully built, three inches shorter than the six-foot-one Clayton. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. It's okay." But she's comforting him at least as much as he's comforting her. She rips off the tie that held his long hair in a pony tail and pulls it towards her, wrapping his mane around her head and making a sort of barrier between their two skulls and the rest of the world. Soon, they both start laughing. She lets his hair fall down his back and runs her fingers through it. They slowly move their heads from side-to-side in unison, keeping their foreheads touching. After twenty seconds of contact, she slowly pulls back, takes his hands, smiles, then slowly pulls back some more until they're no longer touching. "Don't worry, Mona," he tells her. "This won't change our dinner plans. I'll be at your place, seven-thirty sharp."

Mona turns around and walks back to the table to rejoin the others. The priest, who has a bruise on his left cheek, gives Clayton a ferocious glare. Mona sends the priest an even more menacing look. He relents, knowing that giving Clayton the punishment he deserves isn't worth risking the break up of the firm's most powerful coven in North America. Mona grins, sits down and holds hands with the women to her left and right. They settle down, no longer agitated by Mona's absence. The flame quickly goes from red to blue, then to white. Clayton gives the priest one of the smug grins that he's become so despised for. There are few things people hate more than an asshole who always wins. The white flame means they're in harmony, which means they can telepathically tell the priest what they've figured out. The priest has the information he needs – half a minute after the obnoxious, gaudy lawyer who shouldn't even be there. Never has he felt so impotent. Clayton takes off his coat and slings it over his left shoulder. "The other three just hold her back," he says as he walks past this extraordinarily powerful mystic, treating him like a glorified servant.

What's worse, the priest realizes that Mona had been holding back. She knew the answer, but wouldn't reveal it until she knew her man was all right. Against all logic, and every company rule, a sleazy lawyer who couldn't so much as float a pencil had usurped his authority. "Why does my jewel care about this walking dung heap?," the priest thinks to himself. A second later, he falls to the ground and grabs the back of his head in extraordinary agony. Clayton smiles, glances over his right shoulder and winks his right eye at Mona. She grins and winks back. Once he's left the room, the mega-migraines end and the priest stands up. If only she weren't irreplaceable. Outside, Clay steps over the bodies of the security guards, goes into one of the abandoned offices on the abandoned eighteenth floor, sits down and calmly has a cup of coffee. Now that he knows what's happening, he starts thinking about how to turn this disaster into a net gain for the firm. Experience had taught Clayton that, if you were clever enough, you could take advantage of any unforeseen development, no matter how awful.

After working her way through all thirty floors, Nina teleports into the White Room. "I'll wait in this place, where the sun never shines. Wait in this place, where the shadows run from themselves," she sings as she strolls around. She hears a growl, looks down, and sees the jaguar. It flashes its glowing green eyes at her. She flashes her glowing blue eyes back. The animal quickly stops appearing so menacing, and nuzzles up against her left leg. "That's a nice kitty." She pets it with her left hand. "That's a very nice kitty." A few seconds later, she digs her fingers under its flesh and rips out a portion of the animal's spine. It falls on its side, dead. Nina props open its mouth and sticks her right arm down its throat until she's into the animal up to her shoulder. She rips it out, holding some yellow gunk in her right palm. For once, her grotesque actions make her mildly nauseous. She tosses it on the wall, creating a small portal that she dives through head-first.

Now she's in a green room, twenty feet-cubed. The walls are dotted with yellow, red and brown spots. Nina knows they are camouflage for the demon that protects what she's after. It's a forty foot-long snake that slithers along the walls, threatening to constrict anything standing between them. "A snake. That's no fun." Nina's never liked fighting them. She looks straight up and sees a red ball next to a blue ball. "Jackpot." She bends her knees and prepares to jump, but stops right before lift-off. The snake anticipated her move and slithered up to the ceiling with astonishing quickness. It coils its massive body around the prizes. This was going to be more difficult than she expected. She could try to run up the walls, outflank the serpent and rip open its body before it could bite her. But now Nina knew the snake was too fast for that. No matter how she utilized her own speed, it would gobble her. She looks up at the demon. Its mouth is eight feet above her head. It sticks out and wiggles its two foot-long forked tongue, taunting its prey. That's when something important occurs to Nina: while there was no way to avoid getting eaten, there was also little chance that the demon could kill her.

She smiles at the snake and sticks her tongue out, playfully mimicking the predator. Nina closes her eyes and leaps straight up. The snake opens its mouth, shoots its body downwards and quickly devours Nina whole. She claws her way up to the middle of its body while the snake rests its head on the floor and keeps its back end around the goodies on the ceiling. Nina is standing in the middle section. She shoots her arms out in either direction, trying to break through the two foot-wide snake's six inch-thick skin. That's at least three inches thicker than Nina was counting on. This meant bursting free took her ten seconds instead of two. The demon squeals as her hands force their way out and tear the demon in the two. No sooner does Nina break free than the lower section of the serpent falls off the ceiling and buries her on the floor. Nina slowly pushes the bulk aside and rises to her feet. The fangs and their venom were no problem. But the hydrochloric acid in the digestive juices ate through parts of her rubber suit, which is smoking and giving off an awful odor. Even worse was the viscous slime she was covered in. Nina runs her hands through her hair, trying to wring the gunk out. Her suit was ruined. 

Nina had anticipated messiness. Though not on this scale. She unzips her suit and takes it off. Underneath are kaki spandex shorts and a blue spandex short-sleeve top. She leaps up to the ceiling, taking the glowing red orb in her left hand and the glowing blue orb in her right. Each one is about two inches in diameter. She puts them both in her right hand and spins them around, then does likewise with her left. A brown belt is slung tightly across her chest from her left shoulder to her right hip and back around. On the front of the belt is a pouch. She opens the pouch and places the orbs inside. It's not exactly the most secure form of transport, but who was tough enough to take them from Nina? She zips the pouch shut and leaps through the portal back to the white room just before it closes. "Work's all done. Now for the fun."


	54. Nina Gets Her Revenge

With all their vehicles in the shop after Mal trashed them, Cordy drives the van they're leasing. Its windows are heavily tinted, and the only side windows are in the front section, so Angel has plenty of protection from the sun. "How are you supposed to get out?," Cordy asks Angel, who sits next to Connor in the third row. The sun's setting, but it's still out. "And where do you want me to park?"

"Next to the front door."

"Good thinking. That way, we can see if it's a hoax without even stepping out. Or, if it's not, we can drive away before becoming the next victims."

"We'll be fine," Angel insists. "Connor and I go first. You four grab the weapons and back us up. Even if we can't kill it, we have enough fire-power to hold it off."

"What if it ain't like anything we've ever seen before?," a nervous Fred asks.

"In the past few months, we've faced a lot of things we've never seen before. And we're still here. If something's in there – whatever it is, we can handle it." Cordy jumps the curb and drives through the crowd of Wolfram & Hart refuges at thirty miles an hour. They scream and leap to either side to avoid the maniac driver. "Cordy, watch out!"

"Calm down, Angel," she says just before slamming on the brakes and stopping so that the passenger side is four feet from the doors. "If I wanted to kill them, I would have been going a lot faster. And I wouldn't have honked the horn."

"Ready?," Angel asks Connor, who sits to his right.

"I'm here, aren't I?," he responds curtly. Wesley slides open the door. Connor jumps out, followed quickly by Angel. They take a revolving door inside. Angel holds a three foot-long broadsword, while Connor brandishes a two foot-long curved sabre. Both of them are overwhelmed by the sight of the slaughterhouse Nina has turned the lobby into. For creatures with extraordinarily sensitive noses, the stench of blood and viscera is overwhelming. Especially for Angel, who can be tempted by the smell of a few ounces of spilled human blood, to say nothing of several gallons. "Guess they weren't lying," Connor comments. Given all he's seen in his life, he's the least effected by the massive gore. Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Cordy get out and open the back doors to get at the heavier weapons. Gunn straps on his flame-thrower and puts an ax into his belt. Wesley slings his shotgun over his shoulder, holsters two pistols and places two hand grenades in his jacket pockets. "Why didn't you use those against Mal?," Gunn asks about the grenades.

"He was too fast." Cordy and Fred each take a tranquilizer gun. Fred also grabs a taser, and Cordy a short sword. They know that if this was a false alarm, Angel and Connor would be out by now. That makes all of them extra nervous about what awaits them. Cordy and Fred each grab a handle of the duffle bag that holds the rest of the weaponry. Wesley closes the van door, then opens one of the building's doors, allowing the more heavily-burdened Gunn, Cordy and Fred to go in first. Then he enters. None of them is prepared for what the find. Fred doubles over and nearly wretches. Wesley almost does likewise. Dozens of bodies lie in the front part of the lobby. Six hearts are scattered on the floor. Brains from the crushed skulls mingle with the blood. Several bodies have their chest cavities ripped clean open. Lying here and there are short strands of spinal cord, as well as a few severed heads and limbs. They've never seen anything like it. Not even Angel. The Beast could easily produce this sort of body count, but wasn't nearly as keen on dismemberment. And the creatures Angel knew of who were this keen on dismemberment didn't generate such immense volume. Cordy, Fred and Wes go pale. Along with Gunn, their stomachs are full of madly fluttering butterflies.

"Is it too late to run?," Cordelia asks, expressing the sentiments of her three friends. But Angel and Connor walk on to the middle of the lobby, taking small, careful steps so as not to slip on the blood and entrails. They have no choice by to follow. Everyone moves right, going along the edge of the hall, where the floor is still white. The one downside is it gives them all a close-up of the eyeless guard at the help desk. They hear a gunshot from the other side of the lobby. Angel checks it out. The guy manning the monitors, who Nina traumatized and forced to leave the building open, has just blown his brains out. "At least one of you bastards had a painless death," Angel comments before rejoining Connor and the rest of the gang. The back of the lobby is far less grisly. The bodies are fewer, more spaced-out, and their deaths were cleaner. The floor is strewn with hundreds of empty shells. They littered the front and middle of the hall, but practically cover it in the back. Wesley begins to seriously doubt if firearms will accomplish anything. Angel empties the bag and places the weapons on a ledge to their right. He then orders Connor to use the duffel bag to quickly sweep the shells away and create a large, clear section where there's nothing they can slip and fall on. When Connor objects, Angel says he'll do the sweeping and Connor can move the ten corpses. Connor agrees to sweep, and Angel carries the bodies off to the side.

"Psycho-catwoman my ass," Cordy declares, referring to the obscenely brutal nature of the massacre. 

"Any clue what did this?," Gunn asks. Angel and Wesley look at one another and realize each of them erroneously assumed the other had a clue. Then they both look at Connor.

"Why would I know?"

"You saw demons on Quor Toth we can't imagine," Angel explains. "Do you come across any who could do this?"

"A few. But they were huge. And slow. Way too big to walk all over this building. They'd probably fall through the floor."

"That would be a no," Gunn concludes.

"What about a god?," Fred asks. "Ya know, like what Buffy and WIllow fought? Could a god do this?"

"Easy," Angel presumes. "But this was random, pointless slaughter. Gods don't kill simply for the fun of it. It's, I don't know, beneath their dignity."

"Angel, do we have a strategy?," Cordy wonders.

"I want all of you in that corner," Angel orders, pointing to his right as he faces the back doors, which weren't exposed to direct sunlight at this hour. "Gunn and Wesley, I want you two in front of Cordy and Fred to protect them. They'll cover you with their fire. Try the tranq guns. If it's demon, we can bring bring it down with enough darts. Connor and I will be front and center. We get in trouble, you bail us out. If it goes after you, we'll take it from behind. Any questions?"

Fred raises her hand. "Not to be negative, but if things aren't goin' good, when should we run?"

"If we're tossed through the glass." Connor scowls. He thinks that's giving up too easy. "Or, if I tell you to. You're fifteen feet from the nearest door. We can easily cover that retreat. But it won't come to that. We'll hold our ground." Angel puts his right arm around Connor's shoulders. Connor smiles, in part because he knows they're of one mind, but more because it showed that Angel had faith in Connor's abilities. Like he saw his son as an equal. At least that's how Connor interpreted it.

After seeing what this hideous monster could do, the gang re-equips. Wesley jettisons his two pistols. Cordy and Fred eagerly snap them up. Wesley convinces them to give him the tranq guns, at least for the first shot. Cordy also grabs Gunn's aluminum bat with the hook on the end that he used to such great effect against Angelus, though she's not aware of this detail. Fred takes a hatchet. Wes grabs a sword. All six of them have daggers. Next to Gunn and Wes are two sledgehammers lying on their heads, ready for them to either use or toss to Angel and Connor. Armed and in place, all they can do now is wait for three agonizing minute and try to ignore the carnage all around them.

It was the snake that held Nina up. She felt the need to rinse her hair clean in a third floor bathroom. Since it wasn't real hair, it quickly dried and assumed the proper shape. Her work may be ugly, but she felt an imperative to look beautiful while doing it. Connor could hear her feet stepping on a walkway forty feet up. He points at the spot. Angel can hear it, too. The steps sound surprisingly light and nimble to him. Not the plodding stomps of a monster. They back away. Nina swoops down, bending her knees as she lands in the center of the back part of the lobby. Angel and Connor are twenty feet in front of and to the right of her. The humans are fifty feet away and to her left. For a second, everyone is too startled to attack. This is not the monster they were expecting. The lawyers weren't kidding about her being a knockout. Then their fear kicks in. Human appearance, extremely super human power: she must be a god. Definitely a worst-case scenario. They frantically go to work. Wesley takes a grenade in each hand. Fred and Cordy each pull out a pin. Wesley waits three seconds before releasing them, making Fred and Cordy very nervous. He tosses them underhand. They bounce towards Nina, who pays no attention to the humans. She's fixated on Angel and Connor. "Hello killers. Show me everything you've got." Once the grenades are tossed, Connor and Angel sprint for the alley between the elevators and hit the deck, sliding into the wall. "Don't be cowards! Running can't save you. Stand up and fight!"

The grenades detonate, one of them five feet from Nina and the other one ten feet away. Angel's friends are crouched behind the ten bodies Angel piled up to form sandbags of corpses. Wesley peaks above the barrier to see what effect the grenades have. The large amounts of shrapnel that hit Nina travel right through her without causing any damage. The explosives also have no effect. Amidst the fireworks, Wesley can't see that the fragments which hit the orbs bounced off them, or that the shrapnel passing through Nina falls only a few feet behind her, her body having absorbed nearly all their energy. He knows this doesn't bode well. The others don't realize this until a couple seconds after the blasts, when they get up. Fred and Cordy quickly leave the protective corpses, with Wes in front. (None of them like the idea of crouching behind dead people, even if it does provide safety.) Gunn stands up and marches towards Nina, who is still dazed by the strange missile weapons the humans employed. She looks at Angel and Connor, who are on their feet, but still twenty five feet away. Why can't they be men and attack her like brave Buffy and tough Faith? Evidently women were the stronger gender in this species. "I'm waiting, sissy boys!," she taunts, just before getting doused with a jet of flame from Gunn, who is fifteen feet away and coming at her from the other side. She turns, looks at him and motions her hands in his direction as he closes to within ten feet. She cries out in pain. That was a good sign. Then she step towards Gunn. That was very bad sign.

"Are . . . You . . . Not . . . Men!!!" When she's a step away and winding up a right hook, Gunn turns it off. Nina lands a tremendous punch. Then she picks him up and tosses him in the direction of his friends, who try to catch him to soften the impact and prevent the tank on his back from exploding. He lands face-first on the three of them, knocking them on their backs. Wesley, who's in the center, takes the brunt Gunn's weight, though he was thrown with enough force to knock the wind out of all of them. "It's not too late. To whip you. Into shape." Wesley's struck by the Devo references. It seemed odd for a primordial deity to make pop culture references, especially these ones. The "Whip It" line was obvious enough for her to pick up after a short time on earth. But playing around with the title of their far-more-obscure debut album? That was baffling.

Connor and Angel run at Nina from the right. She's still laughing over her successful frame of demon-fighter bowling. Angel's struck by her seeming lack of concern for her flanks. Every single one of their attacks has caught her by surprise. Including this one. Connor slashes through her neck with his sword. Nothing. That was new. Weapons bounced off the Beast and Mal. They didn't go through them. Angel, who's three steps behind Connor, decides to do his son one better. He swings his broadsword downward, cleaving her head and cutting her body in two. Connor watches in horror as her flesh heals itself the moment the blade's done moving through it. Like the closing of a downward-going zipper. Except it sounded a lot different. From six feet away, Connor could hear the sucking and slurping of her flesh coming back together. It sounded like a liquid. All he could think of was the T-1000, and how much it sucked that there wasn't smelting furnace nearby. She wasn't liquid metal, but she was liquid something. Once Angel finished slicing, he looked of at her, and couldn't believe his eyes. Nina slaps him with the back of her right hand. He falls on his back. It's the first time a mere slap has knocked Angel down. Connor swings his sword down, trying to lodge it in her head. If the weapons only hurt when they're in her, then that's what had to be done. She dodges to the left. He swings for her eyes. She ducks. He's quick. She's quicker. Before Connor can bring the sword back, she leaps at him, clobbering his head with a very fast right cross-left hook combination, putting the boy on his back.

Angel steps up and tries a right hook and a left jab. She easily swerves her head out of the way before landing a right hook Angel never even saw coming. He tries a right kick. She ducks, sweeps his left leg, and, during the fraction of a second his falling body is completely in mid-air, pushes Angel with her left foot, sending him sliding along the ground into Connor, who had gotten up and was walking towards her. Wes and Gunn are blown away by the speed and precision they're witnessing. Connor wasn't directly behind Angel. To send Angel sliding at just the right angle to hit Connor required both perfect timing and exquisite touch. Wes takes aim with the tranq guns. But before he can fire, she leaps on top of Angel and Connor while they are still down. She slams their skulls together, then shoves their backs into the wall, cracking the marble. Angel senses that she's fighting with a profound personal animus. But he was mystified as to what her grudge was. While their bodies were still reverberating from getting slammed into the wall, Nina slams her left palm into Angel's nose and her right palm into Connor's, bloodying both of the them. She picks Angel up tosses him forty feet through the air in a circular arc, then does the same to Connor. They crash into the floor from a height of twenty feet. Now Nina follows the same trajectory, flying through the lobby, jackknifing her body and coming down on Angel's chest. He groans. She hops to her feet when Connor is only halfway to his feet, kicking him in the mouth and knocking him on his back.

She grabs Angel's jaw with her left hand and squeezes as she lifts him to his feet. He can feet the jaw bone straining under the stress. Nina nails his face three times with her right fist, the third blow knocking him six feet back and freeing Angel from her grasp. He goes bumpy. She smiles, while Connor attacks from her left. Without taking her eyes off Angel, she uses her left arm to block Connor's left jab. right hook, left kick and right roundhouse kick. Evidently she can easily sense flank attacks, but simply chose to ignore some. At the same time she's thwarting Connor, Nina blocks Angel's left cross with her right hand. Immediately after parrying Connor's roundhouse, Nine ducks Angel's right hook, spins clockwise and sweeps Connor's legs with her right foot, putting him back on his butt. Angel elects to go on the defensive. "Your fangs are as tiny as the other one's," Nina tells him, referring to Spike, which Angel can't possibly figure out at this point. He lands a right hook and left cross, which Nina answers with a right hook. Connor vaults to his feet. Nina decks him with a vicious leaping right roundhouse kick. She pivots and tries to hit Angel with a left reverse kick. He grabs her foot. Playing defense seems to be paying off. Nina leaps in the air off her left foot and does a back flip. It's the standard counter in that situation. He'd seen Buffy use it a number of times. But never like this. Nina seems to float more than jump, completing a full revolution on her way up and grabbing hold of a chandelier. She pulls it down in Angel's direction. He rolls out of the way. She does another flip on the downward trip. Connor leaps over the fallen chandelier and lands a flying right kick to her chest, knocking Nina on her back. Finally, they had her down.

Nina then rose in a way neither Connor nor Angel had ever seen, or even considered. While down, she spins her body around, clearing out everyone within a three foot radius, or else tripping them up. Having created some breathing space, she spins her body some more, rising to her feet as she still twirls. It was like a break dancing windmill move, except in reverse, and it allowed her to go to work before her attackers were ready, landing a right roundhouse punch to Angel's face on her final revolution. Connor connects with a left hook. Nina responds with two crushing left hooks to the right side of his jaw, staggering Connor. She goes back to Angel. "Is it true what they say about the size of a vampire's fangs?" Right now, Angel doesn't know nearly enough to make the Mal connection. He responds to the non-sensical taunt with a straight right kick to her chin. This knocks her back two steps. Angel's learned enough not to pursue. He prepares to block her next move while Connor counter-attacks. She leaps at Angel, sending her right foot for his chest. He grabs hold of her right ankle, but can't halt her momentum. The blow puts him on his back. And because he held on, Nina's standing on top of him. Such great balance. Almost like she had a gyroscope in her. Still, he has her leg with both hands, and can pull her down.

Angel does just this – but right at the moment Connor was going to land a leaping right hook kick to her head. She falls on her back, and he flies over top of her, tumbling to the floor. And once Nina's hands hit the ground, she's able to push up and back handspring her way out of Angel's grasp. He sees Connor on the ground to his left. The boy's glaring at him. Angel gets up and helps Connor to his feet. "I'm sorry. Lousy timing." Nina has the humans forty feet to her left, and the two warriors ten feet to her right. Naturally, she goes for Angel and Connor. They're the ones she blames for Mal's death. Then Nina abandons her graceful acrobatics. She simply leaps at Connor, gets on top of him and wails away like a street-fighter. He blocks two punches, But she lands four others, including two after Angel started punching her face. He had to land three blows before she even paid attention. After whiplashing the back of Connor's head into the stone and concrete floor (leaving a rounded dent two inches deep), she grabs Angel's legs and stands up, making his body parallel to the floor. Then, Nina arches her back, slamming his face into the limestone after a nearly 180-degree trip up and down.

The gang desperately wants to intervene. But Angel said they were to hang back so long as the two of them kept rising to their feet right after getting knocked down. Connor was already up. He lands a left kick to her chest and a right kick to her face, followed by a left cross to her right eye and a right uppercut to her chin. Maybe she was tiring. Still, it would be nice if her face could show signs of physical injury. At least Mal always gave them that. Nina tries a right hook. Connor blocks it. So instead of striking him, she only pushes him back. Connor could feel the strength in her right arm. It was like a spring she could load up and release. Nina charges head-first – more heedlessly than even Connor would. He lands a perfectly-timed right hook kick that causes her to spin around. She clocks Connor with a left jab as she completes her rotation. Nina follows this up with a right uppercut that sends Connor's feet six inches off the ground. She adds a left kick to his chin that takes Connor even higher and causes his body to spin sideways. Nina licks her lips as she jumps off her left foot and lands a mid-air right hook kick to his body powerful enough to send a soccer ball from one goal line into the net 120 yards away – without touching the ground. Connor doesn't touch the ground until he's flown thirty feet through the air, busted through the thin layer of marble on the walls, and fallen six feet straight down. Cordy wants to run over than help the boy, but Wes holds her back. One of Nina's lightning-quick and hammer-hard combinations could kill them.

Besides, there was still Angel to keep Nina busy. He was on his feet, he had pulled all the pieces off stone off his face, and he wanted to lay some serious hurt on Wonder Woman. While Nina is still admiring her devastation of Connor, he lands a left hook. Then a right cross. He ducks her right hook, connects with a left cross to the body, then pounds her chin with a right uppercut. As she stumbles back, he sends a right kick into her nose, blocks her left cross, and sends a left kick into her ribs, and finishes his a head butt. Nina staggers ten feet back, struggling to stay on her feet. Then she jumps up, does a forward flip and lands behind Angel. As he turns, he tries to sweep her legs with his left foot before she can throw a punch. Nina leaps up, flips sideways to her right, and lands five feet to Angel's left. He turns and awaits her attack. He blocks her left jab for his face, but she lands three powerful right jabs to his chest. He thought his ribs had fully recovered from Mal's pounding. And maybe they had. Nina may just be this punishing on her own. She boxes Angel's ears then lands a right uppercut to the stomach that nearly sends him airborne. The worst is yet to come. She pounds his swollen right eye with three monumental left crosses. It's all he can manage to land a right hook powerful enough to knock a human unconscious, but not powerful enough to even startle Nina. He blocks her left hook and lands two quick left jabs to her nose. These blows only serve to provoke her. She sticks her right index and middle fingers into Angel's nostrils, like he's a bowling ball. Then, she lifts him up, spins him around once and hurls him forty feet. He crashes into the wall and tumbles to the ground six feet to Connor's left. Angel grabs his nose. That move was new to him. And man, did it ever hurt.

Now was the time for Angel's friends to swing into action and distract Nina long enough for Angel and Connor to recover. Wesley walks towards Nina. "What now?," she asks. He aims the two tranq guns. She laughs. "More of those little pellets?"

"Not exactly." He puts two darts into her neck. Cordy and Fred come up from behind, take the guns to reload, and hand Wesley a sledgehammer. Gunn walks towards Wes, then stops six feet to his left. She's not even noticing the darts. She leaves them in and walks at both men. Granted, they are time release. And perhaps they needed a greater quantity. Which Cordy and Fred should soon be taking care of. Very soon. Nina now stands between both men and only six feet away. Neither of them dare swing, out of the fear that she could take the hammers away and pulverize the life out of them. They won't defend until she attacks. For the time being, Nina doesn't appear to be interested in doing that.

"My fight's not with you," she tells the two men. "Or with them," she adds, gesturing to Cordy and Fred as they try in vain to sneak up on Nina. "I only care about those two," she concludes, pointing at Angel and Connor with her right index and pinky fingers. They are both slowly rising to their feet. Angel seems very intent on making sure Connor's not too badly hurt.

"Well guess what, hyperbitch?," Cordy responds, standing ten feet to Nina's left. "We care about them too." She aims and puts a dart in Nina's chest from practically point-blank range. Fred sends a fourth dart into her chest from six feet further back. Still, nothing. Nina laughs, prompting Wesley to swing for her face. She backs out of the way, and laughs even harder.

"You have the most fantastic ways of trying to hurt me. The people I've been fighting, they're not even half as original as you folks. And I'm trying to KILL most of them! Which isn't quite the case, here."

"What people?," Wesley asks.

"You wouldn't know them. They live far away from here." Since she teleports, Nina doesn't have a good grasp of distances. For her, the distance between Los Angeles and Sunnydale is slightly shorter than the distance between Sunnydale and New York City, or Sunnydale and Kuala Lampur. Nina didn't want to hurt these measly humans. But they're standing up to her. And that she can't tolerate. She makes a faint at Wes, drawing Gunn closer to him. Then she lunges forward and clotheslines both of them. But instead of grabbing their weapons, Nina veers left and heads after Cordy and Fred. They quickly flee beyond her grabbing distance, and she immediately loses interest. Wes and Gunn get up, and slowly come at Nina from behind. She turns to face them. Now she has the two men in front, the two women behind, and her two prime targets on either side of her. "Is this supposed to be some sort of trap?," she asks.

"Not until you walked into it," Angel, who is to her right, responds. It was an unplaned, entirely improvised response to one of Nina's bouts of absent-mindedness. They continue winging it. Cordy fires a bullet into the glass on the back wall, hoping the bang of the gun and the crash of the glass will distract Nina for a second. Also, it's a shot which was easy to make (literally like hitting the side of a barn door) and the bullet didn't anywhere near the men. Once they hear the shot, Gunn tosses his hammer to Connor, and Wes tosses his to Angel. Nina glances back when she hears the glass shatter, worrying that Wolfram & Hart were sending in reinforcements. Connor swings for her knees while Angel goes for the head. Nina jumps above Connor's blow, but gets clobbered by Angel's. She spirals through the air and hits the ground awkwardly. Connor rushes in and tries to crush her. She avoids two blows, and he only succeeds in further damaging Wolfram & Hart's spare-yet-expensive lobby. When Nina stands up, Angel hammers her in the lower back. She winces and spins to face Connor. When he winds up, she covers her face. So he pounds her chest, knocking her back a few steps and appearing to knock the wind out of her, though she doesn't actually breathe. Now father and son come on simultaneously. Connor smashes her right knee. When she looks at the boy, Angel hits her left ear. She reaches her left hand up and grabs the hammer while it's still in contact with her skull. The pain she shows on her face doesn't prevent her from ripping the weapons out of Angel's hands. Then Nina wields the weapon, blocks Connor's swing by bashing her hammer into his with a mighty clang, and kicks him in the chest. Once he's on his back, she goes to work on Angel.

But first, he lands a left hook, ducks a swing for his head, and lands a right uppercut. Nina smashes his left pelvis. She gives Connor a quick right kick to the ribs to knock him away. Nina swings for Angel's face. He puts his hands up to block it. She stops a foot short, spins clockwise and bashes his sternum. Then, with a mighty upward swing, she sends his chin upwards with such for that when Angel's lower teeth smash into his upper teeth, his two fangs are cracked. His incisors were no longer pointy, and they hurt like hell. He was oh-so-sorry that he had ever gone bumpy in this fight. Nearly as bad as the pain caused by the exposed nerves was the uncertainty. This had never happened before to Angel. So far as he knew, it had never happened to any vampire. Would they grow back? Not that he wanted to use them. But it would make him look pretty pathetic. For the time being, he had to forget about the searing pain and his fang-less fears and help Connor. But first, he had to stand up. Which he couldn't do for the moment. The concussive blow had seriously damaged his sense of equilibrium.

Angel's friends aren't exactly sure how to help Connor, since he's standing between them and Nina, and if they tried to sneak around behind her she'd smash them to smithereens. For the time being, Connor is holding up pretty well. Turns out that when two people with super powers fight with sledgehammers, it can turn into high-impact swashbuckling. That block each other blows, jockey for position, and occasionally smash hammer into hammer, producing a loud clang. Nina decides to focus on taking take her opponent's weapon away before trying to hurt him. After their next hammer-to-hammer collision, she gets her hammer locked behind Connor's. She pulls back and uses her superior strength to rip Connor's hammer out of his hands. He immediately realizes the trouble he's in. She swings for his chin, and he avoids the blow by doing a backwards hand spring. Nina bends down and picks up the other hammer, holding one in either hand. She smiles and swings them inwards. Connor ducks in time to hear them smash together less than a foot about his skull Nina knew he'd duck. She just wanted to scare the boy. At it worked. She can see it in his face. Connor desperately backpedals towards Angel, who's on his feet, though still a little woozy.

Nina swings the hammers round and round in her hands and she pursues the boy. When he stumbles, she launches simultaneous strikes for his left pelvis and right knee. Two direct hits. She quickly moves to the left, swinging the hammer in her right hand for his sternum and the one in her left hand for his spine. The blows push the bones into Connor's heart, actually squeezing the muscle. Connor falls to his knees. Nina pounds his lower back twice with the hammer in her left hand, driving Connor down. Angel rushes to Connor's aid, sword in hand. He hopes to slice through the shafts. But Nina sees him coming and bashes his forehead with the hammer in her left hand. He goes back down. Nina swings for their faces simultaneously, and watches them cover their faces with their arms, more like victims than heroes. She shakes her head. "How Mal lost to you jokers I'll never know." For Angel, the puzzle's starting to come together. Nina tosses the hammers away. They spin end-over-end down elevator alley before bursting clear through the wall.

For the first time in the fight, Nina thinks Angel and Connor are hurt badly enough to deserve a break. She charges full speed at Gunn, Wes, Fred and Cordy. Now they completely understand why Angel wanted them to keep their distance. Fifty feet gave them a second or two of reaction time. This was the first time they have witnessed Nina's acceleration head-on. Wesley points his shotgun at her body and puts two shots into her. The pellets buy a half-second more, long enough for Wesley to cock his weapon once more and put a mess of birdshot in her face from a distance of less than a yard. The proximity allows Wesley and the others to observe the hundreds of pellets strike her face and slow down as they travel through her head. They could hear the pings of the pellets falling straight down a second later like so many ball bearings dropped out of a box. And they could watch as her skin, teeth, hair and eyes filled in the holes that existed for an instant before closing like hundreds of tiny pores.

Nina rips the gun from Wesley's grasp, uses it to block Gunn's ax swing, and kicks Charles ten feet back and to the ground with her left foot. Wes grabs his sword, but before he can stab Nina she bashes him once upside the head, knocking him down. A second strike knocks him out. She bends the barrel into a U-shape, while looking at Fred and Cordy. She loves that they know they are next. They both fire their pistols at point-blank range. The concentrated force of the bullets drives NIna back in a way the tiny pellets could not. Six direct hits, and she's twenty feet back. There was one very easy solution to this: attack someone. Nina leaps twenty five feet at Gunn. Cordy and Fred immediately cease fire. Charles lodges the ax in her chest. She pushes him fifteen feet back into the glass, cracking but not breaking the pane. Then she removes the ax and charges at Gunn, swinging the back end of the weapon for his head. He rushes to his left, towards Fred and Cordy. Nina stops in mid-swing and sticks her right leg out, tripping him up. One blow to the head with the blunt end knocks him unconscious. Nina glances to her right. Connor and Angel are approaching, but they don't look too good.

Thirty feet in front of her are Cordy and Fred. They fire a combined total of eight shots in two seconds. Three of them miss, two hit the ax head Nina holds in front of her body, two go through her stomach, and one goes through her neck. Nina responds by tossing the ax through the two foot space between them. Cordy ducks right, hitting the window, and Fred falls left, hitting the floor. When they start to get up, they see that Nina's standing next to them. "Who wants to sleep, and who wants to watch?," she asks them.

"Who wants to leave?," Connor asks as he grabs Nina from behind and flings her into the glass. But it doesn't shatter, and he hears a distinct "splat" as the viscous liquid that is Nina collides with the much more viscous liquid that is glass. He charges as she peals herself off the glass. When Nina turns, Connor lands a right hook, left hook, right uppercut and left cross to her face. 

"Oh, I'll leave," she replies. Connor lands two more right hooks. Nina holds herself up by leaning her back against the glass. As Connor rests for a second or two after his flurry of blows, Nina swings her right foot forward and kicks Connor in the groin. He grimaces, whimpers and falls to his knees, then groans as his eyes go into the back of his head. Nina walks past Connor on his right and looks to her left at Cordy and Fred. "Definitely the weaker sex." Angel walks up and lands a left hook to her face. She knocks him back with a right jab. "Case in point." Nina turns to fight Angel. He kicks her in the stomach with his right foot. She tries a right roundhouse kick, but he backs out of the way. Angel hits her face with a left hook kick. Nina responds by landing a quick combination of right kicks, the first to his stomach and the second to his face. He blocks her right jab and steps forward to throw a right hook. But Nina takes a quick half-step back, spins and lands a left roundhouse kick to his chest, further aggravating his internal injuries. She follows up with a left hook kick to the right side of his face, followed by a left kick to the groin. Angel goes down as Connor had. It hurt so much worse than when Buffy kicked him there. Clearly, this woman is as bitter as she is powerful.

Cordy and Fred come at Nina from behind, bat and hatchet in hands. She spins, ducks and pushes on their chests, knocking both women twenty feet back and to the ground. They fire at Nina as she charges, hitting her six times before they both run out of bullets. But the shots kept Nina ten feet back, allowing them to stand up. She kicks Fred in the chest with her right foot, sending her into the back wall before she has a chance to hurt Nina. Then she turns to Cordy, who holds a dagger in her left hand and stabs for Nina's right eye. Nina grabs Cordy's left hand when the point is only three inches from her eyeball. She twists Cordy's wrist, causing her to drop the dagger. Nina takes hold of Cordy with both hands and tosses her head-first into a metal column in between glass window panes, knocking her out. A slap with the back of Nina's right hand puts Fred back down just after she got up.

Angel's staggered towards Nina, and now he kicks her in the lower back and clubs her upper back with both hands, putting her on her knees. Connor's also up, and he comes at Nina from her left. Angel grabs her chin and head from behind and tries to snap Nina's neck. She lets him. After a few seconds, he realizes that the harder he pulls right, the harder her neck muscles push left, producing a stalemate preventing her neck from twisting. She quickly bounds to her feet, reaches back to grab Angel's head, and flips him forward so he's on the ground. As Connor winds up to punch her, Nina puts her left hand under Angel's chin and her right hand on top of his head. She tilts his chin a few inches to the left and looks at Connor. "Careful." He holds back. A part of Angel is pleasantly surprised that the threat of daddy's death has such a strong deterrent effect on his son. "I let you try it on me. Only fair to let me try on you." She twists Angel's head a few inches more. She's on the edge of killing him. "Psyche." She picks Angel's body up and slams his back down into the floor. Connor attacks, and Nina blocks his flying right hook kick, holds onto his right ankle and flings him into the wall behind her. Angel gets up, spins and lands a left roundhouse punch and a right hook, grunting in pain as he pounds her head. She just laughs. "One of us still looks pretty on the outside. But I bet you still have an inner beauty." Nina fakes a left jab to the face. When Angel puts his right and up to block it, Nina sends the fingers on her right hand for the right side of Angel's stomach. Angel yelps as the fingers pierce his skin and start poking around. "I like to know what a man feels like on the inside." Her fingers burst through his lower back. Then her palm. Angel falls to his knees. Blood trickles out of the left side of his mouth. "Even better than blondie," Nina reports with a smile before ripping her arm out of Angel, leaving behind gigantic entry and exit wounds. He falls to his right, down for good.

By now, Connor has had plenty of time to identify Nina's smell. It was from that house Mal stayed in. Like Angel, he understands why she's doing this. He knows what he would do to someone who killed Dawn. And he knows this woman-creature has no problem killing humans. He figures she's going to do it as slowly and painfully as possible. So Connor sees no choice but to fight on, hold out as long as possible, and hope that he could pull off another miracle. He staggers at Nina from her right. As Angel keels over, she sticks her right arm out and flicks a few ounces of Angel's guts into Connor's face, temporarily blinding him (and grossing him out for far longer). Nina takes advantage of Connor's impaired vision to land two left jabs and two right crosses. Connor staggers back and wipes his eyes clean. Nina knows how hard she can hit, so she knows how hard this boy's trying to hold on. He screams as he launches and connects with a right hook kick, then grunts loudly as he continues spinning and lands a left roundhouse kick. "You are one brave fella." Connor lands a right hook. Nina shoots the tips of the fingers on her right hand into his adam's apple, causing Connor to gasp and put his left hand to his throat. Then she sends a right hook into his left eye. He tries to answer with a right hook of his own, but Nina backs up a half step, avoids the blow and lands a leaping straight right kick to his mouth, sending him into the wall once again. Still, he remains on his feet. "Not to mention durable," she concedes.

Connor tries to speak but only spits and coughs up blood. He wants to say "Why do you think I killed Mal?," unable to resist a golden opportunity for a taunt even at this late stage, and convinced he can't make her any madder. But the injuries Nina inflicted prevent him from testing that assumption. Lucky Connor. She would've broken both arms and both legs. But thanks to the throat shot, it only makes her laugh.

"Not too good with words, though." She blocks his right and left hooks, then lands a left jab, left hook, right cross, right hook, left kick to the stomach, and a right roundhouse kick to the face that puts Connor on his back for good. Nina looks at Angel and Connor, both of them beaten to a bloody pulp and unable to stand. She touches her pouch with her left hand, reminding herself that she got what she was sent for. As she walks to the door, Nina sees, from left to right, Gunn, Wes and Cordy slumped on the ground. Sitting to Cordy's right is Fred, the last conscious one. Nina walks over, causing Fred to tremble with dread. Nina grabs Fred's shirt and lifts her up. Nina stares into her eyes, a cheshire grin on her face. She gives Fred five seconds to imagine what horrible things NIna has planned. But all Nina does is sniff Fred's hair and lick the left side of her neck. Fred closes her eyes and grimaces as the evil monster does this to her. Then Nina drops her to the ground. Nina looks down at Fred. "The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy," she says before chuckling and walking out one of the back doors.

In Los Angeles, the fighting is over for today. In Sunnydale, it has yet to begin. This will be a very long and uniquely difficult night for Buffy.


	55. Looking the Other Way

After Fred woke Wes, Gunn and Cordy up, they helped Angel and Connor to the van and drove home, entering through the old service entrance in the sub-basement so as to avoid the hundreds of hotel guests, who might have a few questions as to why the hotel's proprietor has a sucking chest wound, or why Angel and Connor look like Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds used their faces for batting practice. Lorne meets the group and helps them into the makeshift office in the basement they used when Xander's construction crew was repairing the lobby. Connor and Angel lie on couches that meet at right angles in the back corner of the room. Wesley is on the phone near the front of the room. Cordy's bandaged Angel's wound as best she could, and Fred tries to care for Connor. Lorne and Gunn help both of them out.

"I know I've said this before, but what the hell was that?," Gunn asks "She ain't nothing like any demon I've faced."

"She's Mal's girlfriend," Angel declares, further confusing everyone else, save Connor.

"You smelled her too?," he asks.

"She mentioned him during the fight. What smell?"

"Last week. That other scent at the house Mal stayed at. That was her scent."

"That's why she's so mad at us," Angel concludes. "We killed her man. It's personal."

"Of course," Gunn remarks.

"Whadya mean of course?," Fred wonders.

"You four can go. I only want to hurt these two. She said that cause she doesn't blame us," Charles explains.

"That's a relief," Cordy comments. "In one way. In another, it's terrifying. And disgusting. But also confusing. Mal has an invincible girlfriend. Why doesn't he use her? The two of them could have ripped all of us apart in no time."

"Thanks for the reminder," Angel weakly and sarcastically jokes.

"I'm sorry, Angel. But you know it's true." Something occurs to her. "And it means his death is her own damn fault. If she really loved him so much, why wasn't she fighting by his side when he needed her?"

"Cordy's right," Connor offers before coughing up some more blood. "She was in town the night before we killed him. Wait. How does she know we killed him?"

"Maybe she saw his bones," Gunn guesses.

"We only had those out that night."

"They were out on Friday," Fred recalls.

"In the office," Cordy notes. "Unless she can see through walls."

"So she's with him right before the fight, and she comes looking for him right after," Angel concludes. "Which raises two more questions. Why did she wait to get her revenge? And how does Wolfram & Hart fit into all this?"

"The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy. That's what she told me right before she left," Fred reports.

"Sounds like our girl's an equal opportunity hater," Lorne quips.

"She hates us more," Angel argues. "That monster killed the fighters at the law firm. But she let us live. She was wants to make us suffer. Connor starts hyperventilating, which quickly causes more weak coughing. Fred wipes away the blood. Cordy comes over and tries to comfort him. They put an extra pillow under his head to elevate him. He looks very worried.

"What's wrong?," Fred asks. "Ah mean, what's more wrong?"

"I killed her lover. She wants vengeance. What if she tries to kill my lover?"

"Lover? What lover?," Angel wonders. The others realize who Connor's referring to. After a few seconds, Angel gets it, and looks nauseous. "That's what you call Dawn?"

"Relax Angelpie," Lorne gently pleads. "No time to blow your top over pet names."

"If she wants to make me suffer, isn't that the easiest way?," Connor asks.

"You mean before she kills you slowly and painfully?," Cordy responds. Right now, Connor does not appreciate her sense of humor. "I'm sorry, Connor. But it seems to me she's focused first on breaking every bone in your's and Angel's body. Maybe she doesn't even know about Dawn."

"I hope. I couldn't stand her getting hurt because of something I did."

"Right now, I'd worry more about you getting hurt for something you did. You and Angel, both."

"Cordy's right, son. Whatever she is, whatever she wants, she's our problem."

"I'll get crackin' on the research," Fred promises. "Try to figure out just what exactly she is." Wesley hangs up the phone and walks over to them.

"Don't bother," he assures her. "That was Rupert. I have good news and bad news. The good news is, she's not after us. The bad news is, she's after Buffy."

Cordy breathes a big sigh of relief and looks up at the ceiling. "Thank God for small favors. You hear that, Connor? She doesn't want to kill you guys. She's Buffy's problem."

"Then why did she come after us?," Fred wonders.

Wesley explains. "Her name is Nina. She isn't a demon. Nina is a Titan who works for the First Evil. According to Rupert, she is its final and most powerful agent. Buffy and Faith have had as much difficulty injuring her as we have." Angel and Connor struggle to sit up. This latest revelation peaks both their interests.

"A Titan? What's a Titan?," Fred wonders.

"They're what lived before demons," Angel explains. "But I thought they were all killed off."

"Devoured by hordes of ferocious demons," Wesley notes.

"Obviously not all of them," Gunn comments.

"Before they could meet the fate of the rest of their race, Nina and her brother Seth were rescued' by the First Evil, which uses them as its shock troops. Seth came first, and when they defeated him, Nina – who is by far the stronger one – took his place."

"She's in Sunnydale," Connor frets. "That means she can attack Dawn anytime she wants." Angel's getting annoyed with Connor's fixation on his girlfriend.

"She can't kill Dawn," Wesley assures Connor, who manages a smile, though not a pretty one, on account of his swollen and bloody lips. "For the same reason she can't kill either of you. Agents of the First Evil can only kill Watchers, Slayers and Potential Slayers."

"What about all those Wolfram & Hart employees who had their hearts removed?," Angel asks. "How do they fit in?"

"Nina can also kill anyone who gets in her way and tries to prevent her from killing Slayers."

"Wolfram & Hart's protecting Buffy?," Cordy wonders. "Spike's one thing, but that law firm's a whole other level of sleaze."

"Apparently, Wolfram & Hart was in possession of some object that could be used to destroy the Slayer Line. That's what Nina must have been there to retrieve. And that was why she could kill anyone who got between her and the object."

"Then we got played for suckers and tricked into an ambush," Gunn concludes.

"That pretty much sums it up," Cordy agrees.

Angel's distressed that some of his crew has second thoughts about fighting the good fight. "She's evil, and she was in our town," he argues. "We had a duty to try and stop her."

"Why can't Buffy clean up her own messes?," Cordy asks. "I don't mean to sound harsh, but it's not like we haven't had problems of our own to deal with."

"Massacring the city's demon population, organizing and resettling its vampires, taking control of its street gangs, decimating its demon fighters, eating hundreds of its people, kidnapping and torturing Angel, chasing the rest of us around town. All that in four days and five nights. Mal was one busy bee," Lorne reminds them. "Where did he find the time to romance the Madame Evisceration?"

"Sometime between Tuesday night and Thursday night," Wesley explains. "Nina was inactive during that period. And Mal was in Sunnydale on Wednesday night."

"He was?," Angel exclaims with trepidation. "How do you know that?"

"Mal had no confirmed kills in Los Angeles that night. Meanwhile, there were twenty eight killings in Sunnydale. Rupert described the wounds, and they matched Mal to a T. Apparently, he went to a strip mall and marauded from store to store, biting and draining everyone in his path."

"And Buffy didn't try to stop him?"

"She was patrolling at a cemetery. They didn't know about the massacre until the following morning. Mal never encountered Faith or Buffy. However, from what Nina said when they skirmished on Thursday night, Rupert now believes that Mal watched the two of them and Spike from a distance and gave Nina his expert opinion on their relative strengths."

"Oh my God. He was talking about them," Angel realizes.

"When?," a confused Connor asks.

"During our final fight. He mentioned two Slayers and another vampire. I thought I was hearing things, on account of my head spinning and blood pouring out of my ears." Then he looks at Wes suspiciously. "You knew this all along."

"About Nina? No. About Mal being in Sunnydale? Since the following morning. It didn't seem relevant at the time. Giles never mentioned Mal to Buffy for the same reasons."

"And maybe because he's the World Champion Slayer-Killer," Cordy adds.

"That was probably also a consideration."

"And what if he did attack them?," Angel demands to know. "They would have had no idea what they were up against."

"I told Rupert about Mal the moment I discovered his identity. For this reason, Rupert was with Buffy and Faith whenever they ventured outside. He knew what to be on the lookout for, and what to order them to run away from."

"I don't get it," Fred concedes. "She wants to kill Slayers. He's a pro when it comes to that. They have Buffy n' Faith literally in their sights. How come Mal didn't help Nina?"

"Probably the flip-side of why she couldn't help him with us," Gunn guesses.

"That would appear to be the case," Wes concurs. "Nina can't receive outside aide against her targets."

"So Mal coulda killed Dawn?," Connor asks. Angel, Cordy, Lorne and Gunn all groan at the boy's one-track mind.

"It would appear so," Wesley responds, surprising his friends. "As well as Willow, and Xander, and Spike, and Anya, and anyone else in Sunnydale who wasn't a Watcher, Slayer or Potential." Connor smiles, imagining that he saved his beloved from The Wrath of Mal. Then he remembers something Mal said during their last fight.

"He was going there. After he killed us. He said he was going away with his girl." Angel's friends are dubious. But Angel remembers something similar.

"Connor's right. He told me he was heading where the Slayers were."

"It does make sense," Cordelia concedes. "The guy's done with LA. He wants to spend time with his psycho-girlfriend – God, would those two have been a frightening pair. Like Bonnie and Clyde on steroids and crystal meth. For a guy like Mal, the Hellmouth would be like Club Med."

"The yellow-hair Slayer," Connor recalls. "He said I'd be a good match for her. He thought I should hook up with Buffy!" Angel doesn't remember this, mostly because Mal only said it to Connor. He finds it alarming, as does Cordelia – each of them for very different reasons.

"He thought you belonged with Buffy?," Angel asks. "So much for age making people wiser."

"Try crazier," Cordelia adds.

"He didn't say belonged. He said Angel was too good for her, and the other vampire – I guess that's Spike – wasn't good enough." Angel and Cordy both smile, once again reacting the same way for very different reasons.

"He wasn't entirely wrong," Angel comments, referring to Mal's evaluation of Spike.

"He had a point there," Cordy adds, referring to Angel being too good for Buffy.

"You said her name was Nina," Lorne recalls, bringing the conversation away from the dead vampire and back to the live Titan. "You sure it wasn't Nanna?" Wesley pauses before responding.

"Wait. Nanna. I believe Rupert said that was one of her other names."

"Holy Krakatoa."

"What's wrong, Lorne?," Fred asks.

"This dame who tenderized you two? I've heard of her. In legends. Very scary legends."

"Girl had a rep in Pylea?," Gunn inquires.

"To put it mildly. Her name sends chills down our spines and makes even the bravest warrior wet himself with terror. As you may have noticed, we're a backward people. One of our best ways of bringing in hard currency is to have our young men serve as mercenaries in other dimensions. Three hundred of our kingdom's finest had the misfortune of entering a world just before Nanna showed up. She killed two hundred and ninety nine of them. Then she blinded the lone survivor and ripped his horns off before before sending him back home to tell the tale. I think that was three or four centuries ago. But they still tell it like it was yesterday. And I'm pretty sure they still sacrifice a newborn male child from royal clan every year at the Temple of Akthos the Protector to keep Nanna the Destroyer from setting foot in Pylea. The legend is that no demon can kill her."

"Good thing Buffy's not a demon," Angel concludes.

"I wasn't aware that your people sacrificed their own kind," Wesley comments.

"We didn't. Until we got word of Nanna. It wasn't just that one event. There were are small bands of foreign demons living here and there who came to Pylea as refugees from her wrath. But we always thought they lost because they were weaker than us. Until some of our kind got a taste of her bitter medicine. She destroys worlds. And she hates demons. I'm sure this sounds rather loopy in hindsight, but I was taught that she liked people. Word was that she exterminated demons but spared non-demons."

"So that they can live in a world run by evil," Wesley infers. "Slavery instead death. How considerate of her."

"We have to help Buffy," Angel declares.

"First, you have to be able to stand up," Cordy reminds him.

Giles puts down the phone, looking even more distressed than he usually has these past few days. "What's going on?," Buffy asks.

"What did Wes say to get you extra worried?," Faith wonders. Giles just leaves the living room and rushes into Willow's bedroom.

"Sorry to interrupt. Have you found anything?"

"Yep. I picked up your weapons. Too bad all I picked up was that they're within a three mile-radius of us. They're not cloaked. But they only give off a very fuzzy signal. I can't focus it. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about that. Can you locate Nina?"

"Piece of cake."

"Good."

"Why good? Has she found the super-tools? Cause that's not good."

"I doubt that she has. But I think she's found a way to focus the signa and locate them."

"I find her, and Buffy finds the weapons. What if it's too late?"

"Obviously time is of the essence." Giles turns around and leaves.

"Gotcha. I'll get right on that. Chief." Willow worries about how agitated and overstressed Giles has become. He returns to the living room to explain.

"Nina was just in Los Angeles." Buffy, Faith and Dawn gasp. "She fought Angel and his friends. Thoroughly thrashed them, as a matter of fact."

"How's Connor," Dawn asks. "Is he okay?"

"They're all fine, Dawn. Just badly bruised."

"With Nina, I would bloody well expect as much," Spike adds. He would have found it humiliating for Angel's gang to hold up better against her than they have.

"As much as we care for Angel and his friends – and family," Giles adds, in a nod to Dawn, "they are not what concerns us right now. As best as I can determine – and Wesley is in complete agreement with me on this – Nina went there to retrieve some small, mystical object that can help her find the charmed weapons. Attacking Angel was extra-curricular." Giles gulps. "Apparently, and I'm still having trouble believing it myself, Nina was quite fond of a certain vampire who Angel and Connor slayed last Thursday evening." This produces a few seconds of silence.

"Psycho girl had a honey?," Buffy asks. "A vampire honey?"

"Guess they're not just for Slayers anymore," Anya quips, drawing Buffy's glower and Rupert's glare of annoyance. Then she remembers something useful. "When Nina held me hostage, she talked about her boyfriend. I thought it was her kinky way of referring to the First."

"Me too," Buffy recalls.

"Let me make sure I have this right," a shaken Dawn begins. "In addition to wanting Buffy, and Faith, and the Potentials dead, now our just-about-unkillable enemy has a personal vendetta against Connor and Angel?"

"She can't kill them," Giles assures Dawn.

"Otherwise she bloody well would have," Spike adds, not helping, but raising an important and – if Dawn looked at it the right way – comforting point.

"As if she wasn't already filled with enough homicidal rage," Xander remarks. "Leave it to Angel to give our arch-nemesis a little extra motivation." The Potentials try as best they can to make sense of the situation.

"Since when did agents of the First get to date?," Kennedy asks.

"I think Nina gets to write her own rules," Anya theorizes.

"She is the First's last and only hope," Xander points out. The holographic nature of the First Evil makes Andrew think of the hologram of Princess Leah saying "Help me Obi Won. You're my only hope," which even he recognizes as a grossly inappropriate reference at this moment. Then something more relevant occurs to him. "In her zeal for vengeance, Nina may have sowed the seeds of her destruction by drawing a new group of heroes into the fight."

"No she didn't," Buffy replies dismissively. She dislikes the idea of needing Angel's help in Sunnydale as much as he dislikes the idea of needing Buffy's help in LA.

"Two Slayers, two ensouled vampires, two Watchers, a boy Slayer - "

"Hey!," Dawn interrupts. "Don't call him that." She finds it demeaning.

"And don't call Wesley a Watcher," Xander adds, beating Giles to the punch. "He's a defrocked ex-Watcher."

"We don't need Angel getting in the way," Spike argues.

"He can't help us," Giles maintains. "That was apparent enough when she manhandled him today. What can help us are those weapons. They can hurt Nina."

"Clearly Angel can't," Spike adds. Andrew senses how protective they are of their territory, but before he can say anything impolitic that might imply that they are petty, Willow enters.

"Found her." Buffy leaps to her feet. "She's on a hill in Denonville Woods." Willow marks it on a map. "Right there." Buffy puts on her coat and heads to the door.

"Right behind ya, B," Faith says as she puts on her coat. Giles grabs Spike's arm to keep him from following.

"Piss off, Rupert. You suddenly got a problem with me fighting the bad guys?"

"It might be a diversion. I need you to check the Hellmouth. I'll drive. Buffy, take your phone."

"Good thinking," she concedes. "Nina could lead us on a wild goose chase and teleport away at a moment's notice." Xander also gets his coat on, puzzling both Giles and Spike.

"Where do you think you're going?," Spike asks.

"Thought you might need some extra wheels. Especially one with off-road capability. Since that's most of what we have around town these days."

"Knock yourself out," Spike responds, not being entirely metaphorical.

A half hour earlier, Nina stood on top a cliff nearly three miles north of the bunker and five miles from where Buffy and Faith are headed. She takes out the two orbs, holding one in each outstretched hand. "Emico, Talico, Mekono, Salinco," she chants before squeezing each orb with all her might. They shatter, releasing red and blue streaks of mist that immediately descend into the cliff. In front of Nina are twelve Joiners, her industrious little faceless companions. "What are you so happy?," she asks them ten seconds later. "You like the idea of tunneling through seventy feet of rock?" She doesn't like the idea of waiting. The Joiners drive steel spikes into the soil, tie ropes around them, and slide down the sheer west face of the cliff. Six of them stop thirty feet down, and the other six stop forty feet down. They immediately begin using their picks to hack away at the side of the cliff. Nina slaps the side of her head. "Stupid me. Who says they have to go straight down?" She looks over the edge of the cliff and watches them work with quiet, calm ferocity. She'd have her toys in no time. And now, to lead Buffy astray, Nina teleports to where Willow would fine her. At this site are twelve more Joiners, digging two holes in the ground.

"Got a plan?," Faith asks Buffy as they climb the heavily-forested hillside in the southeastern corner of town.

"She finds us. We duck, don't let her hit us, find the weapons, take them and run away."

"And when she catches up with us?"

"Whichever one of us gets the weapons runs. The other one holds Nina off."

"Ya mean whichever one of us doesn't have the only things that can hurt her takes her on? Isn't that a little backwards?"

"We can't risk her taking them back. We get them to the bunker, and for the first time, she's on the defensive." Faith looks around the dark forest.

"How much ya wanna bet she ambushes us before we ever get a look at what we're after?," Faith whispers.

"She can't take us both at once," Buffy whispers back. As it is, Nina allows them to make it to the top of the hill. The Slayers each hide behind a large tree trunk and observe what's happening. The summit has been stripped bare, the trees chopped down and the stumps uprooted. All this lumber has been used to erect a four foot-high barricade around the area where the Joiners are working. In the center of the clearing are two fluted stone columns with a papyrus design on top, each column four feet high and two feet in diameter. They use metal circular saws to slice into and peel away the stone. Nina circles round them, anxiously watching their work. Buffy takes out her phone and sends a text message to Xander, who is with Spike and Giles at the Hellmouth.

"Buffy says Willow marked the spot," he reports.

"She found the weapons already?," Giles asks, rather surprised.

"Then she'd probably be fighting instead of text messaging. I think Buffy meant she found Nina looking for the weapons."

"Guess it's safe to say we've found the diversion," Spike concludes. "And what a diversion." Two hundred Bringers with shovels surround the skeletal dome and dig a trench around the circumference of the structure.

"If that's where they want to fight, why are they trying to keep us out?," Xander wonders.

"Perhaps they want to protect something until the time is right," Giles guesses.

"Better go join Buffy," Spike suggests.

"Please try to remain inconspicuous," Giles pleads. "The last thing we want is to tip Nina off to our presence."

"I'm a bloody vampire, you nit. I know a thing our two about sneaking around."

"Guess I'll head home then," Xander concludes. But Giles and Xander are already walking towards Rupert's car and don't bother hearing him. They head east. Xander drives north over the broken ground with his high beams on. He notices lots and lots of footprints. Xander gets out of his truck. They're very tiny footprints. And whoever made them came from the Hellmouth. Xander follows. Soon the footprints disappear into the grass. Assuming that whatever made the tracks couldn't vanish quite so easily, Xander continues north, looking for them.

Clayton's in his office, talking on a headset phone. He paces back and forth in front of his desk as he talks. "That's because flaying dehydrates the body. You can't remove more than ten percent of the skin without killing the person. And the first rule of torture is you have to keep the victim alive. Good thing you got another one left. Take your time with this one. Electrodes to the – come on! A little originality, please? I'm sick and tired of people resorting to technology because they lack technique. Don't just phone it in. Try to impress me. Then maybe I'll put in a good word with your boss." He takes off the headset and shakes his head. David enters. "You're still here."

"Our bosses don't look too kindly on jumping ship during a major crisis."

"What crisis? A visitor took out fifty expendable tough guys and disemboweled thirty expendable paper pushers. One on each floor. Gotta respect the thoroughness of it all. Then she stole something designed to hurt someone we don't care about but our enemies do. I think the upside outweighs the down."

"She destroyed our link to the Senior Partners."

"Guess they'll have to stay off our backs for a while. Sounds good to me."

"You are such a goddam hypocrite," David tells Clay. "Always prancing around like you don't have a care in the world."

"I don't prance."

"You act like the world's biggest cynic. Until the going really gets tough. Then you're no different than Angel."

"I like to think I'm very different. And my girlfriend would agree."

David snaps his fingers and points. "That's what I'm talking about. When there's a tiny chance she's in danger, you risk your life, you risk your career, to make sure she's okay. Laid back and care-free my ass. You're the biggest fraud around."

"Ever consider that it's because I care about Mona that I don't have to care about anything else?"

"So the office gossip is true. You really are just riding her coat tails."

"You're one to talk, mama's boy."

"She's not a lawyer. She has no control over this department. And she's not even around ninety five percent of the time. Mona lives here. She's your eyes and ears. You knew what you were doing when you chose her." Clayton slams David into the wall. He laughs at the furious Clay. "You love her! You really love her. Whatever happened to the man with ice water in his veins? Is he just some character you pretend to be from nine-to-five?" Clayton lets go. David smooths out his suit.

"Some of us need more than whores."

David sighs. "As I've told you before, I only go for them because they're emotionally-scarred. Not because I can't get it for free."

"My apologies. I forgot about the coked-up models."

"Heroin-addicted models. They have more depth" Clay shakes his head at David's depravity. "You think I'm sick."

"No. I think you need them to be sick. You're more attracted to their baggage than their bodies. Take your yin for Vengeance Demons."

"I'm also attracted to their bodies. Their human bodies, in case you weren't sure."

"Knowing you, I wasn't."

"These are women who gave up on their old lives. Committed a form a suicide. That's how miserable they were. Sure, they're immortal. They can zip all over the world any time they want. They're incredibly strong, physically and magically. But deep down, they'll always be failures. Every single one of them."

"And that's what gets you going."

"It's the contrasts. The fusion of power and powerlessness. It doesn't get more poetic than that."

"You really think of yourself as an artist?," Clay asks David with a chuckle.

"Do you really think of yourself as a tender lover? If only your clients knew. They'd drop you in a second."

"Because they would realize I'm human?"

"Or maybe they'd wonder if your girlfriend isn't." David jumps back and puts out his hands, anticipating another violent outburst. "I'm just saying, she's the kind of girl who turns heads for the wrong reason. And the hairless thing is just the beginning. Is that how the firm spots them?"

"That, and the fact that they're mute."

"At least you two can't fight."

"Of course we can. I can hear her thoughts loud and clear."

"Only the ones she wants you to hear, I bet."

"Like all forms of communication."

"I still don't get how you managed to meet her. To say those girls are cloistered would be putting it mildly. Then again, they are lonely. You don't have any competition. The only tough part is that first step."

"I was working in Chicago. Two years out of law school. Botched some motion to dismiss, so I was demoted across the street to the back-office building."

"You were on the chopping block."

"Lowest of the low. But if I hadn't screwed up, I never would have known she existed. I'm pouring through case law one night because I'm terrified of getting fired. it's about two in the morning. I look out the window, and see only one floor with its lights on. And I start wondering who it is. It's not the right floor for the partners. I finish my memo, and decide that instead of faxing it to the main office, I'll walk it over."

"But you were exiled."

"It's the middle of the night. I flash the guard my badge, he's not going to bother inspecting it. I drop off my work and try taking the elevator to the mystery floor."

"Let me guess: you didn't have authorization?"

"Nope. But that didn't stop me. Or, to be more precise, it didn't stop her."

"She sensed the curious loser, and used her mojo to rig the elevator? Poor girl was lonelier than I thought."

"She could see me from across the street. Guess she liked what she saw."

"I'm sticking with my She Was Lonely thesis."

"She definitely was. It explains why we met. But it doesn't explain why she fell in love with me."

"Forgive me for trying to burst your bubble, Romeo. I'm sorry. I meant Angel. Lonely girl. Special powers. Doomed to an early death. The parallels are scary."

"First, she wasn't a girl. Mona was twenty two when we met. I'm only five years older than her."

"That would make her twenty eight. Doesn't her kind die at thirty?"

"Not die. Get killed off."

"Wolfram & Hart murdering its own employees. I'm shocked," David jokes. "When do they put them to work? Fifteen?"

"Twenty."

"Ten years? They spend two decades raising these girls for only one decade of labor? That's just plain inefficient."

"Age twenty is when their powers begin to peak."

"And they fall off after thirty?"

"Most of the time."

David raises his eyebrows. "Is someone planning to buck the system?"

"Mona's always told me the other women lose their power because they're depressed. All that loneliness leaves them with nothing to live for."

"Gosh, you're pathetic. Anyone else said these things to you, you'd laugh them out of the room."

"You still don't get it, do you David? We make each other better."

"Her power gives you inside information. And you think your love makes her a more powerful witch."

"So does Mona. But you missed the most important part. Our love gives me insights into our enemies you can't even dream of. Why do they fight us? Well, a lot of them don't know any better. But those are the easy ones to defeat. The tough ones, now they fight out of love. I know what it is to love someone so much you're willing to die for her. Which reminds me. I'm late for my seven o'clock. Got a date with an Angel. And then, a real date with a real angel. Ciao, babe."

As Xander drove north, he couldn't find anyone. Then he thought about where these weapons would have been hidden. If they was buried in the town, chances were they would have been discovered by someone digging sewers or building foundations. So they were somewhere remote and undeveloped. Soon, he came to a cliff that fit both these descriptions. There were piles of dirt on the ground. He sees another pail of dirt fall from the heights, and looks up into the darkness. A clod of dirt nails him in the face. He wipes it away and takes out his phone.

Buffy has the ringer off, but she can see Xander's number flashing on her screen. She retreats down the hill and answers it with a whisper. "Xander, do you know the meaning of the word stakeout? You want to blow my cover?"

"Buffy, it's a diversion."

"Looks pretty real to me. Right down to the scary-looking guys cutting up the Egyptian pillars that look really real to Giles."

"Then why are they tunnelling into the hill just above me? Seems like a waste of effort if they've already got the goods."

"Call Giles. Talk to him. I'm too close to Nina to have a nice, long chat." She hangs up. Xander calls Giles, who is with his car at the bottom of the hill. A few minutes later, Buffy receives a call from him. Greatly annoyed, she takes it, trying to be as quiet as possible. Fortunately, the Joiners' saws make it difficult for the enemy to hear much. "You want him to what? You're sure about this. You better be sure." Buffy walks over to Spike and whispers in his ear.

"No bloody way."

"And what if Giles is right? It's the only way to know for sure. Sneak around to the other side. That way you won't give us away."

"And what if he's wrong? Then Nina knocks me down, and her faceless minions cut me to pieces with their power tools."

"We've got your back."

"Fine. I'll take one for the bloody team," Spike grouses. He sneaks around, climbs over the barricade, charges Nina and sends a right hook for her face. It goes through her face. She's a hologram. "Oh, balls," Spike says before running away from the Joiners and their sharp, fast-spinning tools. He leaps back over the barricade and ends up tumbling down the hill. Buffy and Faith, furious at realizing they've been had, run down the other side towards Giles.

"How could this happen?," Buffy demands to know. "Willow found her here. Are you saying she was fooled by a mirage?"

"That's not possible," Giles argues. "She had to be here when Willow performed the spell. Which was fifteen minutes before you arrived."

"The old switcheroo," Faith comments. "Hold on. Nina's not dead. How could the First ghost her up?"

"Technically, she dies at the end of every mission, and is resurrected at the start of her next assignment," Giles explains. Spike joins up with them.

"I hate getting snookered. Where's our real enemy?"

The Joiners carved out two niches in the side of the cliff, then dug two narrow shafts into the dirt and rocks. This was the sort of task where their diminutive size came in handy. They were already hard at work by the time Buffy set out for the wrong location, and the decoy bought them plenty of time. The first team found their prize ten feet in. The second one twenty feet in. As Xander anxiously waited, he could see something getting attached to a rope and pulled up to the summit. Nina is lying on the ground, passing the time by staring at the stars when her workers return. She stands up, and is disappointed by what she sees. Before her are a three foot-high, eighteen inch-wide wooden log and a similar-sized cylinder of bronze. "Well isn't this a horrible joke. Like finding a needle inside of a bigger needle. Oh well. Look on the bright side. They must be pretty powerful for someone to go to this much trouble to keep them hidden. What was that? You can sense exactly where they are in there? Those orbs really were worth it." Nina teleports to the other site to check on Buffy and returns a few seconds later. "Better hurry it up, boys. We don't have all night."

NEXT: Buffy loses by getting what she wants.


	56. Chosen, Not

Buffy endures the biggest disappointment of her career. And it has nothing to do wth Nina.

It's no coincidence that this was the cliff Nina stood on when she watched the tidal wave come ashore Saturday afternoon. She knew all along that this was where the weapons were buried. She also knew that they couldn't be used until several days after the town was destroyed, at the earliest. Thus, there had been no hurry in digging them up. Personally, she thought the First was rushing things. Nina believed they should wait until the dome was finished and preparations for the final fight were complete. Then Buffy could be lured into an attack on the dome while the weapons were being excavated four miles to the north of the Hellmouth. Nina suspected the First ordered this premature act in order to keep her busy and free from distractions, such as mourning Mal. But Nina had to follow orders. She did everything she could to keep Buffy away: the activity at the Hellmouth, the elaborate decoy in the hills to the east. What she couldn't figure out was how Buffy knew what she was up to so soon after Nina had acquired the orbs. She wrongly assumed that Wolfram & Hart must have tipped her off. Who else could it have been?

The cliff is one hundred and ten feet above the flat land approaching it from the west. Its western face is nearly vertical. The south face is also too steep to climb. The north face is the most accessible, with a winding trail going up. The east face lacks any trails, and is steeper than the north face, but can still be easily climbed, providing no one's standing in your way and trying to push you down. When she arrives, Buffy thanks Xander for his vital tip and tells him to head on home with Giles. She doesn't want to risk them getting hurt. Knowing time is of the essence, Buffy quickly comes up with a plan.

"Okay, okay, I got it. Spike, you take the trail around the corner. It's the easiest way. She'll be expecting us to take it. We'll wait a couple minutes before climbing up on this side. Then me and Faith can take her by surprise."

"I'm nothing more than a bloody diversion?"

"You have a problem with that?" Spike quickly relents. Faith's impressed by how whipped B's got him. "The weapons are for Slayers. You're here to help us get our hands on them."

"Mine not to reason why. Mine but to do and bloody die," Spike responds with mild bitterness.

"Who said anything about dying?," a concerned Buffy replies. "You're the diversion, not the sacrificial lamb. Do what you can to distract her, but stay undusted. I'm not losing anyone else to her."

"I get to live. Yeah me," Spike wanly replies before heading off.

"Is he always this moody?," Faith asks after Spike is out of sight.

"Not about death," Buffy answers. "Usually, that's the last thing he worries about."

"Guess this new girl's giving everyone the shakes."

"She won't after tonight."

Buffy waits about two minutes before setting off with Faith. They climb up the rocks and pebbles. The loose stones tumble down as they put their feet on them. The troublesome terrain, combined with the darkness, slows them down. At the same time, Spike runs up the winding dirt path as fast as he can. He's halfway to the summit when the Slayers start ascending. As Buffy had hoped, he gets noticed before they do. Three-quarters of the way up, where the slope gets steeper, a Turokh-han hides behind the trunk of a pine tree that the tidal wave stripped of its branches and bark. Though superior to ordinary vampires in strength and quickness, they are far less stealthy. Spike stops ten feet from the uber-vamp. "Fe, fi, fo, fum, something wicked this way comes." He looks at the tree trunk. "What do we have behind Door Number One? Bringer, or Reaper? Let's have ourselves a peak, shall we?" The uber-vamp snarls and leaps out. Prepared for the attack, Spike hits him with a right hook, knocking him away. The demon rolls a short distance down the slope before digging in his claws, getting up and jumping at Spike. He ducks, avoiding the flying right kick. The uber-vamp does a somersault and stands up above Spike. Spike goes bumpy. "Well if is isn't the missing bloody link. A friend of yours wasn't very nice to me. I guess you'll be the one to pay the price." The turokh-han blocks Spike's right cross and lands a right hook. He then leaps on Spike, and the two of them roll thirty feet down the hill before crashing into a tree stump.

What Spike didn't know was that two more uber-vamps had been lying in wait. When they saw Spike was alone, they rushed back to the top. Nina gives them a withering sneer. She loathes demons, and hates having to work with them. "Okay, I know you're morons, but can't you understand simple commands like Stay out of my sight'? Find them!" She takes each uber-vamp's neck in her hand, lifts them off the ground and squeezes. "I see the Slayers, and I kill you before they even get the chance to. Kapish, maggots? She tosses them fifteen feet back, and they fall to the ground. When rushes at them, they back down the hill in fear. "Can we get a move on?," she asks the four Joiners who perform the delicate task of liberating the weapons. They've already sliced back the wood and the bronze to within a few inches of the weapons. Now they carefully file away the remaining material, using circular sanders for the wood and rotary steel files for the bronze. Nina looks at the eight Joiners who are doing nothing at the moment. "Don't just stand there. You trust those pea-brained primitives to get the job done?"

The two uber-vamps roam the east face, above the Slayers and to their right. "You hear that?," Buffy asks Faith.

"Sounds like they've taken the bait."

"It's too close for them to be after Spike."

"Long as it's not straight above us, I'm ain't worried." Like the uber-vamps, the Joiners quickly realized the Slayers were coming from the east. They scatter along the upper end of that slope and use their tools to quickly fell some of the remaining trees. Buffy and Faith hear the rumblings. Then they see two logs tumbling down to their right. One of them gets within ten feet of them. "That, I'm worried about," Faith confesses. Along with Buffy she hugs the hill and climbs up, slightly in the lead. They see a log heading straight for them. Faith goes flat to the ground, hoping the log will roll over her but not send her tumbling down.

"Faith, no!," Buffy calls out. She rushes up, grabs Faith, and pulls her fifteen feet back, where the rock juts out, creating a safe spot. They lie behind the rock just before the log rolls over it, leaps off it like a ramp and goes airborne for a second, sailing over them before slamming into the earth and continuing its downwards tumble. Buffy and Faith both catch their breath, and feel relieved. Buffy peaks her head up, sees another log heading their way and ducks back behind the rock, holding Faith down as well. They watch this latest projectile roll past them.

"I owe ya one, B."

"Don't mention it," Buffy says as peaks out again. "We still have a long way to go." They get up and continue, picking up the pace. Two logs tumble down on their left. Another one comes on their right, falling at an angle towards them. They scamper left to avoid it. The turok-han's flee the onslaught and return to the summit. Nina knew this was a risk. But she trusts the Joiners more than the uber-vamps when it comes to holding off the Slayers. Now that they are less than twenty five feet from the top, the Joiners can sense their location. They possess a highly-sensitive sonar that is far more useful than vampire hearing, especially since the falling logs drown out the sounds of Faith and Buffy. And with the steep incline, they are still out of view from the top of the hill. The Joiners pair off, rolling four boulders they excavated earlier into position. Nina's too busy watching the remaining two pairs of workers uncover the weapons to notice this development, or the return of the uber-vamps. She can see the top part of the sword's blade, and gets excited as they quickly but painstakingly file their way down, exposing more and more of the weapon. Meanwhile, the handle of the stake is becoming visible.

"Maybe I haven't said this before, but you guys really are the best. I mean that. No one can do it better. Like D.O.C." They appreciate the compliment, even though they are mystified by the gangsta rap reference they could not possibly understand. Ironically, Connor would have gotten it.

"I'm okay, Dawn. Don't worry about me. I'm more worried about you."

"Connor, don't be." Then Dawn lowers her voice to a whisper and retreats to the far corner of the living room so the Potentials can't hear her. "I'm the only girl left in town she's not after."

"I'm not so sure. I killed her guy. If she knows you're my girl – "

"Then she would have done something to me by now. It's been four days since you killed that vampire. I was outside for a couple hours yesterday. She had her chance."

"Just to be safe, don't give her another one. Promise?"

"I don't believe this. You're starting to sound like Buffy. All this talk about protecting me and keeping me safe."

"She's not just some vampire."

"I know. And I'll be careful. We all are."

"I can't lose you."

"I'm not too big on me dying, either," Dawn glibly responds.

"Sorry for caring," he replies sarcastically. Dawn can tell he's annoyed.

"Connor, I worry about you too. With all the trouble you get in, if I wanted to, I could probably spend all my time worrying about you. But I have to live my life. And you have to live yours."

"I hate being apart."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around."

"Doesn't make it easier."

"Yeah, well, misery loves company. Especially here. Take care. And don't worry. I'll do the same." Dawn and Connor hang up. He's lying on the couch in the first floor office. Angel reclines in his chair behind the desk. Wesley stands up by the bookcase, trying to find out more about their new menace.

"Any news?," Wesley asks.

"Molly and Izora are dead."

"Who were they?," Angel asks. He had expected info on Buffy.

"Potential Slayers?," Wesley guesses.

"My two favorites. Well, two of my three," Connor responds, referring to Amanda. "Rose and Chao-Ahn also got killed. I didn't spend much time with them."

"Were they killed by Nina?," Wes asks.

"Not those last two. Her brother got them. But Nina got Molly and Izora. She ripped Molly's heart out in front of the others."

"Good heavens," Wesley exclaims. "That must have been extraordinarily traumatic. Even after everything else they must have gone through."

"She wants to terrify them. Make them think Buffy can't protect them," Angel concludes. "But why would Buffy have put them at risk in the first place?"

"Dawn says she had like ten of those Reaper guys with the swords backing her up."

"She left Buffy and Faith with no choice," Wesley responds. "Fail to bring out the Potential Slayers, and the actual Slayers are hopelessly outnumbered and get cut to pieces. How many girls are left?"

"Six. Dawn said Izora shot Nina a bunch of times in the head. That kept her away from the other girls, and probably saved a few of them. The brave ones alway go first."

"You were fond of this girl?," Angel asks.

"Not like that," he responds, assuming Angel was implying Connor was attracted to her. "We never even talked. She didn't speak much English. I think she was from Africa."

"Morocco," Wesley clarifies. "She must have been the Berber girl Giles mentioned." Something funny occurs to Wesley. "You said her name was Izora?" Connor nods. "In Arabic, Izora means Dawn."

Connor smiles. "That's weird. In a cool way. She was a really good shot. When we all were getting ready to save the world - "

"When did you save the world?," Angel asks.

"The night before you came. I helped out. Not like I did it myself. I think Spike killed the Hellbeast."

Angel groans. Then he looks confused. "But you tried to kill him the next night. I saw you helping that guy whose mother Spike killed."

The Holtz parallel alarms Wesley, and he drops his book. "Clumsy me," he stammers.

"So what?," Connor responds nonchalantly. "Spike didn't hold it against me."

"He likes the attention," Angel quips. "It means a lot when you care enough to try to kill him."

"Enough about him." Angel and Wesley couldn't agree more. "Izora wanted Kennedy's crossbow, cause she knew she was the better shot. But Kennedy wouldn't give it to her. She acts like the leader because she's the oldest and she's been there the longest. Izora had just arrived the other day. Plus, she already had her own crossbow. But I can tell she's special. I put an apple on my head and stand in front of a tree in Buffy's backyard." Angel looks horrified. "She's in the front yard, by the sidewalk."

"That's about a hundred and fifty feet away," Angel recalls. "Please tell me you didn't – "

"I stood still. She aimed and fired. The arrow stuck the apple to the tree. Kennedy gave her the crossbow. Izora smiled at me. I think she was glad to know someone believed in her."

"I wasn't aware that you knew the legend of William Tell," Wesley comments. He's as disturbed as Angel by the story, especially by how fondly Connor recounted it.

"Who?," Connor responds with genuine ignorance. Angel and Wes spend a few seconds taking in the fact that he came up with this on his own.

"Why would you do something like that?," Angel asks.

"If she missed, I could always grab it before it hit me. And I didn't think she'd miss. Would she have fired if she wasn't sure she could hit the apple?"

"And what if she was merely overconfident?," Wesley wonders.

"I heard Giles say she hunted back home. He said she walked from Fez to the coast with demons after her. He made it sound like that was far."

"A hundred miles as the crow flies," Angel explains. "A hundred and fifty if she wanted to get to Tangiers for the crossing to Spain." Connor can tell that his father is impressed. "And that's a tough journey by foot. I know from experience. The roads aren't very good, and she had to cross a mountain range."

"Very resourceful girl," Wesley notes. "But even the strongest and the hardiest among us have proven to be no match for Nina."

Clayton strolls into the lobby. Gunn walks up to him. "Can I help you?"

"Is it usually this busy?"

"Sorry. No vacancies."

"I'm not here for a room. I'm here for Angel. Is he in?"

"Who's asking?" Clayton hands Gunn his card. Fred walks up to him. She also sees it. They both appear concerned, and look back at Clay.

"It's not what you think. I come in peace. See, I caught the surveillance tape of your altercation with our common enemy. And I want to help you kill her." Gunn and Fred back away from the creepy evil man and enter the office.

"Someone wants to see you," Gunn reports.

"Someone from Wolfram & Hart," Fred adds. "He says it's about Nina."

"I don't see the harm in talking," Wesley offers, inadvertently reminding Gunn, Fred and Angel of the lawyer he did a lot more than talk with.

"He came all this way. It would be rude to stand him up," Angel comments.

"Provided you can stand up," Fred reminds him. Angel struggles to his feet. He takes a few steps, then sits back down.

"Tell him to step into my office." Angel doesn't want the enemy to see him weak. Connor understands this and sits up. Gunn brings Clayton in. Angel's three friends eye the new guy suspiciously.

"I don't think we've met," Angel begins.

"Clayton Jenkins." He holds his right hand out. Angel doesn't shake it. He pulls it back.

"So you're the guy they got to replace Gavin," Angel assumes. "Weasel number two."

"You can cut the hostility in this room with a plastic spork," Clayton jokes as he glances at Wes to his right, Gunn and Fred to his left, and Connor behind him. "Let's be civilized and not allow past animosities endanger the future of the planet."

"You're the ones endangering the future of the planet," Angel shoots back.

"Can we focus on the short term? I want to be alive in a week. So do all of you, I trust."

"Speaking of the short term, can you hurry up and get to the point?," Angel demands.

"Wolfram & Hart is a monopolist. What keeps the Senior Partners awake at night aren't champions like yourself. It's competitors. Cocky, naive upstarts and doddering old fogeys who don't know their time has past like the First Evil."

"Tell me something I don't know," Angel responds.

"Because of this, our firm stores hundreds of objects that, if they fell into the wrong hands, could be used to destroy our world. Nina took two of them."

"This I already knew."

"If they were so dangerous, perhaps you should have done a better job of protecting them," Wesley condescendingly suggests.

"But for every poison we possess, Wolfram and Hart has the antidote. Angel, I would like to give you that antidote. Be in our lobby tomorrow evening at nine. And bring her," he adds, pointing at Fred. "Just her."

"Why?," Gunn asks. Clay can tell Angel's wondering the same thing.

"I am offering you a chance to save the world. To kill a heretofore unstoppable monster. This isn't the time to quibble over minor details."

Angel stands up. Connor does likewise. Along with Wes, Gunn and Fred, they converge on and surround the unwelcome visitors. "Do you really think you're in a position to dictate terms?," Angel asks him. Clay nervously glances around at his would-be attackers.

"You expect me to be frightened. And I would be. If I didn't know that you can't hurt me in here." They hold their ground. Clayton holds his. He doesn't blink. Slimy bastard's called their bluff. Rather than gloat, he quickly switches from smarmy to serious. "I know what my firm has done to you in the past. And what it has tried to do to you. Each of you has every right to hate my guts. And you can go back to hating my guts when the Titan is dead. But right now, everything I know leads me to believe that you, Angel, are the only one who can kill her. And I have what you need to do it. We'll continue this conversation in my office. I think you'll like the change of venue. After all, in my office, you can kill me if you want to." Clayton turns to his left, walks between Gunn and Fred and leaves the office. Fred looks out the partially-opened door and watches him saunter through the lobby and out the building. She closes the office door. Angel and Connor sit back down.

"I don't like him," Gunn declares.

"Personally, I prefer my weasels slightly less overgrown," Wesley adds. He didn't like that Clayton was taller than him. And Angel. Clay was as tall as Gunn without his hair, and a smidgen taller than him with it. They were used to shorter lawyers annoying them.

"I didn't smell any fear," Connor reports ominously. "Everyone else I met from that place wreaked of it."

"He's new in town. So he's ignorant," Fred rationalizes, trying to put a positive spin on Connor's observation.

"No. It's just the opposite," Angel argues. "He knows something we don't."

"Hair club for men's got an ace in the hole?," Gunn asks.

"You can't be that smug without one."

The first boulder falls. Buffy and Faith hit the deck. The four foot-high rock rolls over Buffy's back. Faith gets up first and rushes forward. The second stone comes her way. Because of the incline, she can't see it until it's five feet away. She moves left, and takes a glancing blow that puts her on her back. Gravity pulls her feet up above her head and back down beneath her body. She grabs on to the dirt, struggling to stay put, but she quickly loses her grip and falls. Buffy reaches down and grabs Faith's left arm with her right arm. Anchoring her right foot to an exposed root, Buffy takes Faith's other arm and pulls her up just in time for the two of them to fall down face first and avoid the third stone, which bounces over them. They get up together and claw their way forward, keeping low to the ground. The Joiners keep their final boulder in reserve. When the Slayers are ten feet below, they push it down. But Buffy and Faith spot it quick enough to burst forward and push it back up. The two uber-vamps get behind the rock and shove back, overpowering the tired Slayers. They dig their feet into the ground, but slide back six feet before slipping and falling on their faces. The boulder rolls over both their backs. Dusty, bruised and cut, they rise to their feet and charge up once more, only to see the turokh-hans staring down at them when they are two feet from the summit.

"You again," Buffy declares.

"Who again?," Faith asks, genuinely clueless about what these demons were. Buffy leaps on top of the one in front of her. Faith, who is to Buffy's right, dives to her right and does a somersault, landing on the top of the hill. Buffy's opponent tosses her behind him. Faith backs away from hers.

"Uber-vamps," Buffy explains.

"Even uglier than the pictures," Faith responds before getting decked by a right hook. Buffy turns, sees the weapons, and gets kicked from behind, falling on her face. Eight of the Joiners head down the ropes and hide in the niches and shafts they finished digging only thirty minutes earlier. The other four continue to frantically excavate what everyone around them is fighting for. Buffy's opponent slams her face back into the ground, then picks her up from behind. He tries to push her towards the edge of the cliff. She falls to her knees, reaches back to grab his head and flips him to the ground. They both get up. The uber-vamp lands a left hook kick, blocks her left jab and lands a left hook. But when the demon tries a right roundhouse kick, Buffy ducks under it, sends a left kick into his stomach, then a right uppercut and a right kick to his chin. As he staggers back, she leaps at the uber-vamp and lands a leaping left hook kick to his chest, putting the demon on the ground. The stake is fifteen feet to her right. Nina has her back to Buffy. Seizing the moment – and her destiny – Buffy takes three steps towards Nina, jumps up, spins round and pounds her in the back with a leaping right roundhouse kick. Caught by surprise, Nina falls forward and tumbles to the ground eight feet away. Buffy looks at the two faceless mini-men three who are feet in front of her, standing on the other side of the log. They back away, as if bowing to the inevitable.

Exposed above what is left of the log are the circular bottom of the handle, two inches in diameter and half-an-inch thick, with symbols carved on the bottom, as well as an inch of the handle below that. Buffy puts her right palm on the handle bottom and places her fingers around the other side. She pulls up. It doesn't budge. She pulls again. Nothing. She puts her left hand on top of her right and tugs with all her might. It won't move. Nina looks at her and laughs. "Your spirit is willing." She steps forward and lands a right hook to Buffy's face, putting her on her back. "But your flesh is weak." Nina casually grabs the handle with her right hand while still looking at Buffy. She wants to see the look on her face when she takes hold of Buffy's great hope of victory. Nina pulls it three inches further out without any trouble, exposing the rest of the handle. Then it stops. She shifts her right hand onto the handle and places her left hand on the handle bottom, pulling again with greater force. Nothing. Buffy stands up and chuckles right back at Nina.

"You were saying?" This is the first time Buffy has seen Nina look frustrated. But she forgot about the uber-vamp, who tosses her to the ground in the direction of Faith, who has been getting the worse of it from her uber-vamp. Buffy hits his face with a left kick and a right hook. The battered Faith adds a right hook of her own. Simultaneous left crosses from both Slayers knocks him down. Buffy pivots and kicks the other uber-vamp in the chest with a left reverse kick, following it up with a right kick to his chin. Nina glances to her right at the sickle sword. Its entire blade is exposed, and the Joiners have revealed the top inch of the handle. She wonders if that weapon's worth trying to pry loose when she notices Faith approaching. Nina lets go of the stake and throws a wild right hook. Faith ducks under it and does a forward somersault. Before Nina can react Faith gets to her feet, puts her right on the stake and pulls upward. It slips out as if it were stuck in butter. Nina gasps. The four-sided stake, two inches wide at its base, extends twelve inches upward to its point. The sides are covered in tiny hieroglyphics. Faith notices none of this as she confidently brandishes the weapon.

"Why so scared of a little piece of wood?," Faith taunts.

"No!," Nina spits out between her teeth right before she charges Faith. The Slayer stabs for her chest, and Nina immediately jumps back, afraid of the unknown. Faith looks at the stake and smiles.

"Damn, I'm good." She rushes Nina, who pedals back. Faith then glances to her right and sees Buffy having her hands full with the two uber-vamps. "Hey B! Catch!!" Buffy steps towards Faith, reaches out her right hand and grabs the stake. She turns and looks at her two opponents, a smile on her face.

"These things'll kill ya, right?," she asks them.

"Not very smart," Nina says as she walks towards Faith from behind. Faith hits her face with a left reverse kick and a right roundhouse kick. Nina trips over a stone and falls on her butt.

"Maybe it's ain't the stake. Maybe you just lost your edge." Faith rushes over to help Buffy take out the uber-vamps. Buffy lands a left kick to the stomach of the demon in front of her. He laughs. She tries a right roundhouse kick. He grabs her foot and throws her to the ground. Buffy gets up and tries to stake the charging vamp. She can't break through his extra-hard breast-bone. He grabs her right wrist, pulls the stake away from his chest and decks her with a right hook to her left cheek. Buffy can't remember the last time a single blow hurt her that much. She struggles to her feet, much slower than usual. He kicks her right hand with his right foot, knocking the stake to the ground. When she leans down to grab it, he hits her again in the left cheek. She falls to her knees. The other demon throws Faith fifteen feet backwards. She looks and sees the stake six feet to her left. Faith rolls over, grabs it with her right hand and gets up. The uber-vamp is choking Buffy with his left hand. Faith stabs the stake through his left forearm. He howls and backs away. The other vamp charges at Faith from her right. She sweeps out his legs, and the demon falls on his face. The turokh-han in front of her tries a right hook. Faith blocks it with her left arm and hits the vamp in the nose with two right jabs. She follows this up with a left uppercut to the chin, then stakes him through the heart. As he turns to dust, she reaches the stake behind her and dusts the other turokh-han without even looking. Faith turns around. She's nearly as stunned as Buffy.

Buffy tries to explain to herself what just happened. So the stake wasn't for her. Two Slayers, two weapons. She sees Nina trying in vain to lift the sickle out of its bronze base, and walks over. "It's just not your night, is it Nina?" Nina spins round and hits Buffy with the back of her right hand. It barely hurts. Buffy responds with a right hook that stuns Nina. Her strength has returned. She lands two left jabs to Nina's nose, then a right roundhouse kick that puts her on the ground. She watches helplessly as Buffy puts her right palm on the underside of the curved blade and pulls up. Buffy immediately grimaces. After two seconds, she cries out and lets go. The thing was sharpened on both sides. Buffy's right palm is cut deeply, and she grabs it with her left hand. As NIna stands up, Buffy tries to pull up the sickle with her left hand, but pulls back when this breaks the skin. Faith runs up to try her hand at it. Nina reaches over top of the sword and decks her with a left cross. She smirks and stares at Buffy as she puts her right hand under the blade, twists it ninety degrees counter-clockwise, grimaces, grunts and lifts. It slips out. Nina flips the weapon in the air and grabs onto the eight inch-long, two inch-wide cylindrical handle. The point is twelve inches above the top of the hilt. From NIna's point-of-view, the one inch-thick blade curves three inches to the right before curving back and extending one inch to the left of the handle at the point.

"So much for you being the powerful one," Nina says to Buffy, who is understandably devastated by her double failure. Nina leaps at her, swinging her sickle downward. Buffy backs up. She ducks under an attempt to behead her, and leans away from a back slash for her chest. Faith steps up and slashes Nina's right shoulder with one of the edges of her stake. It breaks the skin, and she bleeds blue blood. Faith's as delighted as Nina is horrified. She retreats away from the Slayers. Faith confidently pursues. Nina tries to slash her. Faith gets her stake on the underside of the blade, tying up the weapon and stymying Nina. After spinning their arms around twice, their weapons locked together, Faith breaks free and lands a back slash to Nina's right forearm. She gasps in pain as more blood trickles out. Faith can hurt her. Nina angrily swings for the Slayer's neck. Faith ducks and stabs Nina in the chest, straight through where her heart should be. She gasps, grabs the gaping wound with her left hand and backs up towards the edge of the cliff. The sight of her blood on Faith's weapon leaves Nina aghast.

"How's it feel?," Faith asks, biding her time before finishing her wounded opponent off.

"Not as bad as you'll feel when I stab you through the heart."

It's been an epic and bruising battle. But Spike thinks he's finally got the upper hand. He backs up the hill away from the turokh-han, who is nearly as hurt as Spike. When the uber-vamp charges, Spike bludgeons him with a rock in his right hand. He does it twice more, sending the demon to his knees. "They're called tools," Spike taunts as he sends a left foot into the uber-vamp's mouth, putting him on his back. "I guess you stupid gits haven't learned to use them yet." The turokh-han stands up and attacks. Spike sends the stone into the charging vamp's nose. The incredibly irritated uber-vamp responds with a left hook and right jab to Spike's face. Then a right hook kick to his ribs. "Bugger this," Spike declares, tossing the rock to the ground and growling at his opponent. He blocks a right hook with his left hand, landing two left hooks to the demon's face as they fight on a three foot-wide level terrace. The uber-vamp reaches his left arm up and rips out a piece of wooden root. "Using a stake. Like a common human. Bloody pathetic." The turokh-han throws a right hook Spike backs away from. He lunges forward and stabs the stake for Spike's heart. Spike grabs his opponent's left forearm and smashes his left hand twice into the side of the hill, forcing the stake loose. The uber-vamp throws a right cross. Spike ducks, shoves his opponent face-first into the steeply-rising ground, smashing his head three times into the rocks, then snaps the uber-vamp's neck. After proudly watching his mighty opponent turn to dust, Spike leans against the side of the hill and returns to his human face as he recovers from the hard-fought battle.

Nina smiles and moves forward, slashing diagonally, using her speed to keep Faith on the defensive. After five whiffs, her six slash makes a shallow cut across Faith's stomach as she moves out of the way an instant too late. Faith gasps. She has something of a phobia concerning stab wounds to the stomach, and imagines it's worse than it really is. Nina raises her sickle and prepares to bring it down on Faith's face. She puts up her stake to defend herself. But, while Nina was fixated on Faith, Buffy snuck behind her. Before Nina could swing her sword down, Buffy sticks her left hand through Nina's chest wound, giving the Titan a taste of her own visceral medicine.

"Not as much fun when you're on receiving end, is it?," she asks the mortified Nina, who looks down and sees Buffy's hand coming out of her front. Buffy grabs her chest with that hand and pulls Nina backwards and to the ground. Faith charges as Nina vaults to her feet. When she stabs for Nina's neck, Nina grabs her right arm and tosses Faith to her left. Buffy hits her face with a right hook. Then she nails her chest with a left roundhouse kick. She follows this with a right jab and a left uppercut. As Nina staggers back to within six feet of the edge, Buffy pounds her head with a leaping right roundhouse kick, sending her off the cliff. Nina manages to grab hold of the rock fifty feet from the ground, but elects not to climb back up. Instead, she pushes off, does a back flip, lands on the ground more than a hundred feet below the Slayers and vanishes into the darkness. Buffy catches her breath. Faith walks up her and puts her left arm around Buffy's shoulder, making Buffy a little uncomfortable.

"Looks like we got her number."

"Yeah. We."

"Hey, come on B. Ya know I couldn't-a done it without you." Spike climbs up to the top of the hill. He wonders where Nina is.

"Did I miss anything?"


	57. Breaking the Bad News

Giles figures out why the stake didn't choose Buffy, and thinks he's figured out what Nina plans to do with the sickle. Gwen drops by to see the gang. And the Hyperion gets a most unexpected visitor.

At half past ten, Angel and Connor lie on couches in the lobby while Cordy stands behind the check-in desk. Fred walks in through the back entrance from the garden courtyard. "The parking lots in the neighborhood agreed to stop gouging our guests," she reports.

"Did you do what I suggested?," Cordy asks.

"Threaten to have Angel beat 'em up? Nope. I jus' told 'em that I'd go to the press and report how they were takin' advantage of disaster victims."

"Extortion by p.r. I wish I had thought of that," Cordelia confesses.

"Kinda strange that the lobby's empty," Fred comments. "Place was packed at this time last night."

"Lorne's turned the basement into a social club," Angel reports. "Makes sense in a way. They already go down there to cook and do laundry."

"Plus, it keeps them out of our way," Cordy adds. Lorne steps out of the elevator. "How's the party?"

"Subdued. It's Monday. Still packin' 'em in, though. Guess they got nowhere else to go. Except to their families. And who wants to do that? Present family excluded."

"Have you thought of a name for the place?," Cordelia asks. "It's kind of like a the Caritas meets the Bronze, part two. Which is a little disturbing. I don't like it when my old life and my new life merge into one."

"Ain't that the gospel truth. I fell prey to the deja-phobia myself when my brother came here," Lorne confesses. Gwen walks through the front door. She's wearing black jeans and thin, long-sleeved gray sweatshirt with a hood in back. Her hair's slightly curly. Angel is very shocked to see her. It's the first time they've crossed paths since he got his soul back.

"Looks like business-as-usual to me. I thought this place was packed to the rafter. Where are all the people?"

"Upstairs in their rooms, downstairs in the ballroom," Lorne reports. "Everywhere but here."

"Guess you hafta keep someplace safe for solitude," Gwen comments as she steps down from the landing into the lobby. "Otherwise, how can a lone super-hero function?," she asks while looking at Angel.

"Gwen. It's, uh, good to see you, again," Angel stammers. "You look, um, good. And gloveless." Gwen ignores Angel's awkward small talk and walks up to Connor. She looks concerned. "How come every time we meet, you look like you've just gotten run over by a freight train?" Connor smiles. The one good part about being seriously injured is that pretty women want to comfort you.

"Bad timing. Maybe you should come by more often. This sorta thing only happens to me about once a week."

"Tough guy, huh? Guess you take after you dad when it comes to that." Angel smiles at this compliment. Connor scowls.

"Unlike some people, we don't run away in the face of danger," Cordy declares in a thinly-veiled attack. Fred's glad not to be the only hostile one.

"It's easy to run when you have no one to stay around and protect," Gwen responds, inadvertently reminding Angel about Cordy's announcement that she'd be leaving. "Which definitely isn't the case for any of you. Look at you guys. Still together, after everything you've done to each other. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Gotta love family, no matter what they do." Connor's struck by the analogy. Never having made the metaphorical leap the others have, Connor only thought of Angel as family. Which was why he had seen nothing wrong with pursuing Cordelia. In Connor's mind, his rivalry with Angel over Cordelia was no different than Wes and Gunn fighting for Fred's affection.

"Forgiveness always trumps loneliness in my book," Lorne offers. Gunn walks down the stairs, a wrench in his hand. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows.

"Took care of all the plumbing problems," he announces. "For tonight, at least." When Gunn makes it down to the lobby, Gwen's snuck behind him. She puts her right hand on the top of his skull. He spins around. "Gwen!"

"Didn't see me there?"

"That is your specialty."

"Ready to go?"

"Just give me a minute to wash up. I wasn't expecting you to drop by."

"Thought I'd see if running the Hotel Angel had driven you guys insane yet."

"It's only been three days. I give us a week before we start losing it."

Gunn turns around and stands to Gwen's left. They're both looking at the rest of the gang. Gwen takes his right hand in her left hand. "You guys can drop by my place anytime if you need to get away from all this humanity." Gunn looks at her.

"Anytime?"

"We can always head over to your place," she proposes with a smile.

"Gwen, why are you touching him?," a very surprised Angel asks.

"Jealous?," Gwen asks with a flirtatious grin.

"That's not what I meant," Angel insists. "I meant to say how . . . are you touching anyone?"

"Magical chunk of amber I stole in Malta and rammed into my brain. You know, it doesn't seem to get any less disgusting each time I say it," Gwen remarks to herself.

"You lost your powers."

"Thanks to you," Gwen replies, stunning Gunn. "Remember that long trip to the desert, when we were talking about our special circumstances, swimming in each other's angst, and you mentioned your quaint little dream about getting jump-started back to life for good? That got me thinking. If a vampire can become normal, I sure as hell should be able to."

"You told her about the prophecy?," Cordy asks. She thought that was something only Angel's inner circle was supposed to know.

"If it's a secret, I'm good at keeping those," Gwen assures Cordy. "Especially for a friend." Angel winces, but not from the pain of his injuries. "Or so I'd like to think. I don't have much in the way of a track record. You were my first real friend, Angel."

"Come on, Gwen. Angel's been through enough today," Connor jokes. He's spent enough time on earth to figure out how hurtful that term can be for a guy. Gunn takes some selfish satisfaction is Angel's disappointment. It makes him feel like less of a sidekick.

"Beep me if there's another massacre," Gunn says before walking out the door with Gwen.

"Where's Wesley?," Angel asks, changing the subject. "Did he go to find more books about Nina?"

"He went home," Fred says, still slightly shaken by the sight of Gunn with Gwen.

"After Kelly called here," Cordelia reports. "I walked into the office before things got gross, and he decided work wasn't the place for phone sex." As usual, Cordy's candor hurts someone, further reminding Fred of her loneliness.

"I'm going to go back downstairs. Check the liquor situation. I think it's best if our guests don't have to roam the dark, scary streets for overprized booze." Lorne leaves.

"Can you guys help me with something?," Connor asks Angel, Fred and Cordy.

"You want another sandwich?," Fred asks.

"Now that you mention it," he begins before pausing. "But that's not what I meant. You know those girls who live with Buffy? The Potentials? Five of them were dating, and all the guys are here."

"Giles let them date?," Cordy asks with surprise. "Human guys? Their own age?"

"Yeah," Connor replies.

"They really aren't Slayers," Cordy quips.

"I thought they spent all their time fighting and hiding," Fred recalls.

"They saved two of the guys from vampire attacks. Isn't that how Slayers are supposed to meet their boyfriends?," Connor asks with a sly look at Angel. "They others met at the Bronze, I think. The night Lindsey played there."

"Lindsey was singing on stage, and those girls were able to take their eyes off of him long enough to pick up some high school guys? They must really be cute," Cordy concludes, remembering how taken she was with Lindsey the one time she saw him perform.

"I guess," Connor responds. "Problem is, two of the girls are dead."

"And the boys don't have a clue," Fred infers.

"They must have some clue. At least the ones who were attacked," Angel maintains.

"Their girls are still alive. And those guys know that."

"Maybe you should have waited until the fighting's over before telling any of them anything," Angel tells his son.

"I didn't mean to. But Clarence, who's dating Rona, is good friends with Carlos, who's really tight with Kit, who's dating my best friend. And Preston, who's dating Amanda, is on the basketball team with Clarence. And Preston's friends with Prashant, who's dating Madari. So I'm hanging with Carlos, and those guys come over, and they know I'm with Dawn, who lives with Buffy, who they always see with their girlfriends. So they figured I knew something." Fred and Cordy marvel at Connor's rambling explanation.

"That has to be the most normal teenage thing I've ever heard you say," Fred confesses.

"You made more friends in Sunnydale than Buffy," Cordy observes. "And you were only there for a week. So much for using the whole super-powers thing as an excuse for being unpopular."

"They find out I'm calling Dawn, and wanna speak to their girls, too. I woulda been a jerk if I said no. That was Saturday. Then this afternoon Keith and Lucas asked the other three guys if they'd heard anything."

"They knew that all these girls lived together," Angel observes. "Didn't that raise a few questions?"

"Molly and Rose were really pretty," Connor explains.

"High school boys date pretty girls no questions asked," Cordy adds. "Doesn't matter if they're five hundred year-old mummies or giant insects or Potential Cannon Fodder. Especially if the boy is clumsy and unpopular and hides his charm behind a facade of idiocy and bad fashion choices."

"I think they're both popular. Eli said they're jocks. Keith's a wrestler. Carlos said he won the county championships last week. Lucas is a swimmer."

"A member of the Sunnydale swim team. Are they any good now that their coach isn't turning them into fishes?," Cordy wonders, confusing everybody else. "If kids start losing their skin and run around the hotel biting people, don't say I didn't warn you."

"How do you tell someone their girl's dead?," Connor asks. "Especially when they can't understand why?"

"I'm glad you came to us, son." Angel's happy his boy is acting more sensitive and human. It's as if he's starting to empathize with those who suffer, just like his old man does. It doesn't occur to him that maybe his son just empathizes with these guys because he fears for Dawn.

"Actually, I was asking Cordy and Fred," Connor responds, wounding Angel's pride. "Ya know, cause they went to high school a few years back, so they could relate."

"Kids in Sunnydale are used to people they know mysteriously disappearing," Cordy notes. "That should help."

"Molly was from Wales, and Rose was from Montana, so I was thinking of saying they went home. But I figured that was unfair. I wanna tell them the truth, but I know I can't."

"This is why I thought Giles would keep them away from boys," Angel comments.

"You would think he'd learn from past mistakes," Cordy jokes at Angel's expense.

"They were lonely," Connor reports. "I think that's why they were all over me," he adds with a cocky grin. Connor had wondered about that at first. Sure, he thinks he's good-looking. But that first night he showed up, they had treated him like a rock star.

"A Slayer magnet," Cordy comments. "Maybe it's genetic."

Faith stands in the middle of the living room, holding the stake. The Potentials crowd around her, looking at the highly-decorated weapon and eagerly asking her how she got it and what she did with it. Buffy, her two cut hands bandaged, walks into the dining room. Giles, Willow and Xander follow her. They sit across the table from their dejected friend.

"I've determined who those tiny faceless men were," Giles reports, trying to skirt what's bothering Buffy. "They're called Joiners. Synthetic demons, like the Reapers, but more numerous. About seventy in all. They cannot be killed. On the other hand, they cannot kill."

"That's most un-First-ly," Xander points out.

"The Joiners are craftsmen. Builders. If the First were an army, they would be the engineering corps."

"Demon construction workers," Xander notes.

"They really do have demons for everything," Willow comments.

"I'm sorry," Buffy jumps in. "I'm sorry, Giles. I blew it tonight."

"Nonsense," he responds. "You held off two Turakh-hans. You knocked Nina off of a cliff. You performed marvelously, just like always."

"I came back empty-handed. Faith got her weapon. I didn't get mine."

"I don't think it works like that. The sickle has always been imbued with evil."

"Dawn said the book called it a poisoned weapon," Willow reports.

"That's because it's an arsenic bronze, containing that poisonous metal in place of tin. Which was common among early bronzes from that region. But what made it sinister was that it was a demon's weapon, used to kill Slayers. And when a Slayer got her hands on it, it corrupted her."

"That's why Nina wanted it. She wants to use that thing to kill the Potential Slayers. And I couldn't keep her from getting it."

"But you kept her from using it to kill Faith."

"I don't mean dredge up traumatic memories," Xander begins, "But Nina hasn't needed weapons to kill the Potentials in the past. Why would she need one now?"

"Maybe it's not them she wants to kill with it," Buffy guesses. "Maybe it's us."

Giles offers his take. "The scant literature on the First is filled with harvest metaphors. Watchers and Potentials are compared to stalks of wheat. The Council is a vine, the Potentials grapes. Or the Slayer is a tree trunk, the Council is the root system, the Watchers are the branches and the Potentials are olives. Being both a weapon and a farm tool, the sickle would fit easily into that motif."

"All the more reason for her not to have it," Buffy responds. "I had my hands on that weapon. It was mine. It would have been, if I wanted it bad enough."

"If you wanted it that bad, you would be missing four fingers right now," Xander argues. "The harder you pulled, the deeper the blade went into your hand."

"Xander makes a good point," Giles states. "Short of wearing a chain-mail glove, I don't see how you could have freed that weapon."

"I had my hand on the stake first," Buffy reports. "It tried to pull it out. Before Faith. I couldn't do it. She touched it, and it slipped right out. Like it was meant for her. And not for me."

"You tried. Before Nina?," Giles inquires.

"Right before."

"And Faith said Nina pulled it part of the way out."

"There you go!," Xander exclaims. "Nina loosened it. That's what made the difference."

"Yeah Buffy," Willow concurs. "You were penalized for going first. Whoever went after Nina would get the weapon. Faith pulling it out wasn't fate. It was an accident."

"No it wasn't." Buffy leaves the dining room, walks through the living room and into her bedroom. The Potentials don't notice her. Sitting at a table in the back of the room, Dawn watches her sister come and go. She can tell something's wrong. Giles comes into the living room and walks up to Faith.

"Would you mind terribly if I had a look at the hieroglyphs? They could be vital to saving our lives."

"Then it's yours," Faith says, casually tossing the stake in the air, catching Giles off-guard. He still manages to catch it after some bobbling and walks over to the table. Faith sits down and flips on the television. The Potentials sit around her and ask her to repeat the story about how she stabbed Nina and made Big Bad bleed. Anya comes out of the kitchen and into the dining room with a pot of coffee. She pours herself a cup, and Xander and Willow do likewise for themselves.

"Buffy doesn't seem to be handling her demotion very well," Anya notes, surprising Xander and Willow.

"What demotion?," Xander asks. "No one demoted her."

"That's the worst part," Anya responds. "She's probably the first human in history to be demoted by an inanimate object."

"The stake is for both of them," Willow argues.

"They're not children," Xander adds. "They can learn to share their toys."

"That's not the way it works with magic weapons. Was Excalibur shared? Whoever pulls it out owns it. Unless they get killed, and then their killer owns it. So, unless Buffy wants to try to murder Faith the way Faith tried to murder her, she's weapon-less. And Buffy knows this. Why else would she act like this?"

"Because the Potentials see Faith as the hero tonight," Xander answers.

"Tomorrow morning, everything will be back to normal," Willow predicts.

"You don't get it. Things will never be the same. Maybe Buffy will continue being the leader. But Faith is the one with the power."

Giles walks into Buffy's room, stake in hand, looking at the engravings. Buffy sits on the back of her bed, her knees scrunched up near her chin and her arms around her shins. "We should know a lot more when I decipher these glyphs. Hopefully, I can complete the translation by the tomorrow morning."

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Make sure you tell Faith. It's her weapon."

"Buffy, I simply can't understand why you're acting like this. Is there something you haven't told me?" Buffy reaches out her left hand.

"Hand me the stake." He obeys. She stands up and faces him.

"It looks good on you."

After holding it for fifteen seconds, she says "put up your right palm."

"Why?"

"So I can hit it as hard as I can."

"What is that suppose to prove?"

"Do it." He does. She throws a right cross, barely moving his hand. She punches it twice more with little impact. Giles is puzzled. "Let's arm wrestle." She kneels on one side of the bed. He kneels, still very confused, on the other side. She puts her right elbow on top of the bed. So does he. "I'm going to try to pin you. Just hold your ground." She struggles and struggles, hardly forcing him back. "Now, try to pin me." They remain deadlocked. "Try harder." He quickly pins her. Giles stands up. "Let's do this again," Buffy suggests. She reaches out her left hand and drops the stake on the bed. They clasp right hands, and Buffy immediately wins, straining a few of the tendons in Giles's right elbow. Buffy stands up. Giles does likewise. It dawns on him. His jaw drops.

"Good Heavens. You can't hold it."

"Not without losing my Slayer Power. I tried to use the stake against the uber-vamps, and that nearly got me killed. It's not meant for me." Giles takes the stake in his hands and looks it over while trying to figure out why this would be. "This weapon doesn't think I should be a Slayer. I'm not the Chosen One. That's what it tells me every time I hold it."

"All that this — this quirk — says is you're not supposed to wield this particular weapon."

"The only weapon that can hurt our enemy."

"We don't even know if it can kill Nina. Faith said she stabbed Nina through the heart, and it didn't even slow her down."

"But it's great against the uber-vamps. Giles, the stake makes her stronger, and it makes me weaker. What do you think that means?" She's already answered it for herself.

"I'm not sure." He considers the question for a few seconds. "No, believe I am. You've already died. The Slayer Line has moved on. First to Kendra. Then to Faith. And her death will cause the next Slayer to rise. Yours won't. Your second death did not. You're a lame duck."

"Thanks a lot. I thought you came in here to make me feel better."

"This is nothing new. You've been a lame duck for nearly six years. It means nothing. You think this piece of wood proves that Faith is the True Slayer? Then she's been the True Slayer for five years. And Kendra was the True Slayer for a year before that. And yet you're the one who has saved the world time and time again. And all that time, not once were you ever stopped by the fact that the line of succession had passed you by. It's a mere technicality."

"It's saying I shouldn't be a Slayer."

"Well you shouldn't," Giles responds, shocking Buffy, who's too dejected to realize he's using a rhetorical device. "There's only supposed to be one Slayer at a time. You beat the system. You were too strong, too special, too magnificent to go gently into that good night. And the forces of evil have never gotten over that."

"You think the stake's evil?"

"No. It's merely, doctrinaire. Wait a minute. The stake is a defensive weapon. It was created to protect a Slayer from the sickle. Of course. It makes perfect sense."

"Care to invite me to your private inspiration party?"

"You can't destroy the Slayer Line by killing every Potential Slayer. New ones will always sprout up. You cut off the branches, you rip out the vines, more will grow in their place. Unless you remove the roots. Or chop off the trunk."

"Nina kept saying Faith was the one who mattered."

"Her death causes the next Slayer to rise. That's why she needs the Pearl of Merv! It captures demonic powers."

"Like the ones the Shamans forced into the First Slayer. Game, set, match. So if Faith's the prize, why spend so much time going after Potentials and their Watchers?"

"The Council had to be destroyed, in case any of them knew how to recreate the spell, or possessed documents that would provide clues about how to achieve that. They took care of both problems by blowing up the headquarters. As for the Potential Slayers, well, their elimination could be a contingency, in case the initial attempt to capture the power fails. The next Slayer could be any Potential. She could rise anywhere. From the standpoint of the First, it's best if she not be in Sunnydale, where she can help us. If Faith were to die, and her successor was halfway around the globe, you would be left alone. Then, once we were killed, there would be no one standing in Nina's way. She could track down the isolated, inexperienced Slayer, kill her and try again."

"All that killing, all around the world, and it's all for just in case Nina botches the job?"

"Perhaps the spell has to be performed immediately, and that might be hard to do in the middle of a fierce fight. Also, once Nina and her demon minions break out of the Hellmouth and enter the wider world, nothing will be capable of standing in their way. The First has to be stopped in Sunnydale. It knows that. Which is why the Bringers tried so hard to prevent anyone who could be of aid to us from getting here. They want to keep the enemy army as small as possible."

"It's beginning to make sense. I see the part I have to play."

"I'm glad that I could restore your morale."

"Faith's like Dawn. But with Slayer Powers. And a much better boyfriend." Buffy knows Lindsey's a catch. But she doesn't think Connor is one. "Her death could end the world. I have to protect her."

"I think Faith would object if you tried to become her bodyguard."

"Giles, her life is precious. God, I never thought I'd hear myself say those words. Ever. But, right now, until the First is defeated, it's the truth. My job is to keep her from dying."

"Faith is the person here who needs your protection the least. And if you become preoccupied with her safety, not only will you antagonize Faith, but you will leave the girls defenseless."

"Spike can protect them."

"I would dearly prefer not making Spike their first and last line of defense."

"Faith's hard to kill. I know that better than anyone. I won't be trying to shield her. But if she's down, and she looks like she's nearly done for, I have to save her. I have to save the Slayer Line."

"I could be wrong, you know."

"Since when?," Buffy half-jokes.

"I won't know for sure until I've deciphered the writing on this stake. Until then — "

"I know. Don't say a word. You think I want to break the big news and tell Faith that she could be the last Slayer?"

"No thanks. We don't need any help," Angel says to Cordy and Fred as he and Connor limp towards the elevator. "Unlike Mal, Nina goes for the soft tissue."

"Plenty bruises. But nothing broken," Connor reports. They step into the elevator and lean against the back wall as the door closes.

"You fought good today," Angel says to his son. "I mean that."

"Doesn't matter how good you fight when you lose." Connor grabs his crotch with his right hand and keeps it there for a couple seconds, worrying Angel.

"You're not supposed to do that in public. Is this something you picked up from watching MTV?" Connor looks to his left at Angel.

"They're gone. Are yours?" Angel realizes what Connor's talking about, cringes and take a few seconds to respond.

"Yeah," he responds slowly, holding the Y. "But they're not gone. They're just, umm, inside." Angel cringes and looks extremely nauseous after speaking these words. He had been trying not to think about it.

"They'll come back, right?"

"Uh-huh. Absolutely. They'll descend down in no time."

"Has this happened to you before?"

"No! Definitely not. Except, well, before I was born. Same with you. So I wouldn't worry."

"It's scary."

"Yes son. It sure is that." The door opens. They stop out into the hall.

"Don't tell anyone," Connor requests.

"Why would I? Why would I possibly want anyone to know about this?" Angel can imagine all the eunuch jokes Cordy and Wes would subject him to. He turns left and Connor turns right. They each limp to their respective rooms. "Hell hath no fury," Angel mutters to himself.

Leo sits on the right side of the couch. Piper sits in the center. Chris stands to Leo's right. They're watching the eleven o'clock news. The anchor does the intro for the story their LA affiliate showed the previous night. "Another human interest story on that stupid little town," Piper complains. "Forgive me for seeming heartless, but they all sound the same after a while." Phoebe enters and sits on the left arm of the couch. Paige stands to her left.

"What happened to all the demons?," Phoebe asks Leo. "Are they living in the wreckage?"

"Is that why the army's keeping everyone out?," Paige adds.

"The demons left," Chris reports.

"Are any of them heading in our direction?," Piper wonders.

"Probably. But they won't come here," Chris responds.

"Why not?," Phoebe asks. "I thought we attracted demons?"

"Not these kinds," Leo assures her.

"What kinds are those?," Piper asks.

"Smart," Phoebe answers.

"Or cowardly," Paige adds.

"Dunno," Chris responds. "But they're not your problem."

"Check out the innkeeper," Paige tells Phoebe, referring to Angel's image on the screen. "I'd like to help with his problems."

"Tell me about it," Phoebe responds with a grin.

"Don't people usually have last names?," Piper asks.

"Maybe he's not a person," Chris proposes. Leo immediately gives Chris a "You idiot!" look.

"What do you mean by that?," Piper asks. Chris gets nervous.

"It was a joke. A stupid joke."

"It's not like he's a demon who's letting all these people into his hotel so he can eat them," Paige responds with a weak laugh. "He isn't, right?" The three sisters look at Leo, who looks at Chris.

"It can't be," Leo whispers to Chris. "He's supposed to be a recluse. Howard Hughes with a shave and a manicure."

"What about the name?," Chris whispers back. "How many guys have that name? Or the I just stuck my finger in the light socket' hair?"

"Is there something you boys would like to tell us?," Piper asks.

"What do you mean boys?," Chris nervously asks. "That's what you would say to a child."

"He's a vampire," Leo confesses. "I've heard his name once or twice."

"Oh no," Piper responds. "He is going to kill all those people."

"He runs a hotel so he can eat the guests?," Paige asks. "Wouldn't the police pick up on that after a while?"

"He's a, he's a vampire with a soul," Leo says with a groan.

"You mean he's good?," Paige wonders. "Does he help people?"

Phoebe's got a big smile on her face. She leans forward and stares intently at the screen. "A half-demon, desperately wanting to be human. Fighting a battle against his dark side. Tormented, no doubt, by the evil past he struggles every day to overcome."

"Oh no. Here we go again," Piper remarks, rolling her eyes and looking at Leo.

"And he looks really hot in black," Paige says to contrast with Phoebe's flowery encomium and express what she thinks her sister really meant. "Plus, his younger brother ain't too bad, either. I wouldn't mind plucking that tadpole out of the water."

"Does he work for the Elders?," Phoebe asks Leo and Chris. They both laugh.

"He wishes," Chris responds.

"I heard he works for the Powers," Leo explains. Piper and Phoebe both wince.

"Poor bastard," Phoebe responds.

"Who are the Powers?," Paige inquires. Piper takes this one.

"A bunch of Upper Level sadists who make the good guys who work for them suffer." This knowledge only makes Angel more desirable in Phoebe's eyes.

"Only the noblest and most selfless heroes continue working for them."

"Or the biggest boobs," Leo adds derisively.

"Wait a minute," Piper jumps in. "They said the younger one is the hotel owner's son. That can't be right. He's a vampire."

"An immortal having a child. How crazy is that?," Chris asks, his voice cracking with anxiety.

"Not that crazy," Piper replies, looking at Leo.

"Maybe Angel turned Connor into a vampire, and it's just a creepy vampire-family thing," Paige proposes. "No last name for him, either. Do vampires just not have those?"

"But he's breathing," Phoebe notes. "And his dad isn't. Watch his broad, muscular chest and see for yourself."

"I'll take you word for it," Leo quips. Piper can tell he's resentful of all the attention Angel's getting. "If there had been some special vampire child around for the last two decades, I would have heard about it."

"What if he was taken away and raised in another dimension to keep him safe?," Piper theorizes.

"Like that could ever happen," Chris comments while wiping sweat off his brow.

A man rides up to the Hyperion at high noon on a loud Harley. He wears brown rattlesnake boots, tight, faded jeans with black leather chaps over top, a tight gray t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a leather jacket. His face is covered in stubble, his eyes covered by sunglasses. He wears his long, light brown hair in a samauri knot. His teeth chomp on a lit cigar. He turns off the motor, slowly steps off the bike, and pulls off his black leather riding gloves. He takes the cigar out of his mouth with his right hand, exhales, drops the stogie to the ground and steps on it with his right foot. He slowly ambles through the courtyard. When he strides on into the lobby, he is shocked to see all the people milling about. Two of them rush by him and out the door, to hurried and preoccupied to notice his presence. Things had sure changed since he last set foot in this building. All these strangers, but not one familiar face. Had they left?

And then, he spots Cordelia on the other side of the room. She's behind the check-out desk, actually checking people out. When she's finished with the paperwork, the people pay and thank her her and Angel for their hospitality. The family takes their bags and walks out the back door. A few seconds later, she looks over and sees him. He takes off his shades and walks towards her. "My princess."

"Groo???"


	58. Out of the Dark

"You've changed," Cordelia tells him.

"As have you."

"Oh. I guess you heard about all that stuff," Cordelia replies dejectedly. "Figures. I wasn't exactly keeping a low profile."

"I meant you hair. It is darker than I remember. I do like it. Very much."

"Thanks. I see I'm not the only one with a new look." Fred steps into the lobby, gets a glimpse of Groo, takes a second look, shakes her head, and leaves to go get Wes and Gunn.

"How is Angel? I trust the two of you are happy together." Cordy looks pained. There is so much she would rather not tell.

"Angel's not big on the happy. He can't be."

"But the two of you belong together."

"Perhaps. In a perfect world. But certain Higher Forces didn't quite see things that way."

"Is something wrong?"

"Always. Where have you been?," Cordy asks with some forced humor to try to lighten the mood.

"I understand. The ordeal of a Champion is never easy. Where is Angel? Why isn't he here? Has his spawn harmed him horribly?"

"Yes. But that was ages ago."

"The Groosalug?," Wesleys asks Fred.

"Like he had a Mad Max makeover."

"Groo's gone dark?," Gunn asks incredulously.

"Not dark. Just . . . gritty."

"A rogue demon hunter," Wesley declares with a certain amount of pride.

"What's a rogue demon?," Fred asks before slapping the side of her head a few seconds later. "Sorry. Adjective."

"What a rogue demon hunter?," Gunn asks.

"It's exactly what it sounds like," Wes responds, annoyed at their lack of comprehension.

"Sounds to me like a lonely guy with no friends, no home, nothin' to protect," Gunn responds.

"Nothin' to live for," Fred adds forlornly. "Sounds depressing."

"Yet not without a certain romantic, desperado quality," Wesley argues defensively.

"Whadya think he's doing here?," Gunn asks.

"He was talking to Cordy," Fred reports. "Probably catchin' up on what they've been up to." Wesley looks alarmed. A second later, so do Gunn and Fred. They rush out into the lobby, appearing nervous.

"Mister Groosalug. What a pleasure to see you again," Wesley says, shaking Groo's hand and patting him on the shoulder. "What have you been up to, old friend?" Groo and Cordy don't get why Wesley's being so extra-friendly.

"I was just explaining why all the people are here," Cordy replies. Her friends breathe a sigh of relief.

"It sure has been a hectic few days," Fred adds. "We'd be happy to tell you all about it. Maybe over lunch?" Anything to keep him from asking about the more distant past.

"That is very kind of you. But I am only hungry for tales of the great deeds Cordelia has been performing."

"Oh boy," Cordy sighs. "Groo, we need to go upstairs and talk. And you might not like some of the things I have to tell you." She leads a puzzled Groo into the elevator. Cordy's friends don't envy her task.

"Any bets on what'll bother him most?," Fred asks.

"Twenty on Cordelia turning evil," Wesley declares.

"I'd say Cordy getting it on with Connor," Gunn responds.

"The pregnancy," Fred adds. "Come on. Cordy havin' Angel's grandkid?" Lorne walks up to them. He wears sunglasses because he is slightly hungover from his previous two late nights of entertaining. While it gives him a headache, it doesn't impair his ability to sense the mood.

"Why the high anxiety?," he asks them.

"Groo is back," Wesley explains. At first, Lorne is excited.

"At last, a happy surprise. Where is my big 'Lug?"

"Upstairs. Having a chat with Cordelia 'bout what she's been up to," Gunn replies. Lorne takes off of the glasses, looks down at the floor and shakes his head.

"I guess his surprises won't be too happy."

Dawn walks into Buffy's room. "It's 11:30. How come you haven't come out?"

"Out where?"

"The living room. I know it's not exactly going places. But the Potentials are all out there. Most of them, anyway."

"Why? So I can give them another speech?"

"Okay. I get it. No sense in them watching their leader veg out. Better if they know your presence means something important's about to happen. That way, when they see you, they pay attention." Dawn pauses. Buffy doesn't even attempt a brief non-sequitor. "Or, you're depressed. Except, if you were depressed, wouldn't you be off sleeping with Spike?"

Buffy stands up. "Get out." Dawn smiles.

"I knew I could get a reaction! That was a test. Not a real insult. Just a ploy to trick you into doing something other than mope. I know a thing or two about hiding in your room and sulking, and I thought that maybe I could help." Buffy sits back down of her bed.

"It's sweet of you to try. But this is kind of – "

"A Slayer thing. I understand. I don't know anything about being a Slayer. But I do know something about not getting Chosen. Isn't that why you're upset?" Buffy takes a few seconds to respond. She can't believe she's having this conversation, that Dawny's trying to relate.

"It's not about getting not Chosen. It's about getting un-Chosen."

"For Faith, of all people. That is kind of completely insane. You have this huge resume and she has this tiny one, and most of it's about being evil. The Magic Wood picked the wrong girl to be on its team. It's not the end of the world. No, wait. It might be. But you're still their leader. You're the one who's always saved them before."

"That was then. Now, when they're scared, she's the one they look to for protection."

"You can't limit yourself according to other people's expectations," Dawn says from experience. She doesn't see that this could be a back-handed dig at Buffy's own low expectations of her. Fortunately, Buffy doesn't pick up on it either.

"Thanks for trying to help."

"Shoulda known. You never talked me out of any of my bad moods. Why should it be any different the other way around?"

"I never helped?," Buffy asks, half in genuine disbelief and half in jest.

"I didn't go that far. Talking never fixes anything by itself. There needs to be demons trying to kill us to put things in perspective."

"You almost make them sound like a shortcut."

"Maybe they are. What would we do without them?," Dawn asks her sister.

"I dunno. Live safe, normal lives of quiet desperation?"

"Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn," Giles says to himself at the table out in the living room.

"Either you've grown accustomed to your stake, or you haven't figured out what it says," Xander comments. Willow and Anya are also at the table.

"It wouldn't take me too long to write a computer program to unjumble the words," Willow suggests.

"Many of the symbols have multiple meanings," Anya points out.

"I can factor that in."

"Look at this. Kelly's on the bloody Beeb!," Spike announces from a couch on the other side of the room.

"Wesley's girlfriend?," Willow asks as she gets up and rushes over. Spike didn't know this fact.

"She's dating that ponce?"

"He's not a ponce. Not anymore. And how would you know if we once was? You've never even met him."

"I know his type." Xander and Anya drift over to the television as Dawn comes out of Buffy's room. She goes over to Giles.

"I think Buffy's getting better. Are you still having problems ordering them so it doesn't sound like one long madlib?"

"What if some of the seventy seven characters were noise?," Giles proposes. "Not part of the message of the message at all, but purely intended to frustrate those who might try to break the code."

"Giles!," Willow screams out.

"Oh my God," Xander adds.

"That picture makes you look ten years younger," Anya observes.

"What are you blathering on about?," Giles asks as he turns around to see himself on the screen. He immediately runs over. Dawn sits at the table and picks up the stake.

"Like a really big, skinny dreidel," she comments before trying to spin the weapon on its point.

"I don't understand," a stunned Rupert weakly declares as he tries to remember to breathe.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Spike concurs, somewhat derisively.

"Are you taping this?," Willow asks.

"Way ahead of you," Andrew assures her. "Why are they calling you a government agent?," he asks Giles.

"The Council has a Royal Charter going back several centuries. That provides us with a tenuous official status. Too tenuous for them ever to lift a finger to help us."

"But strong enough to let them steal your glory," Xander jokes.

"It's not your bloody glory," Spike declares, playing the wet blanket.

"Did they just call you an anti-terrorism specialist?," Kennedy asks, expressing everyone's bafflement.

"Didn't the First set off a bomb in the middle of London that killed a bunch of people?," Ariella recalls.

"The Council's leadership," Giles points out. "What are they congratulating me for doing?"

"Saving Sunnydale," Faith answers. "That's what it sounds like."

"I'd say that's a tad overdue," Xander argues, countering Spike's previous comments. "And when do the rest of us get our fifteen minutes?"

"They're talking about Saturday," Andrew reports. "But you didn't do anything. You were down here with us the whole day."

"I'm well aware of that fact," Giles concedes as he begins to feel deflated.

"After years of ignoring you, when the world finally sings your praises, it's undeserved," Anya comments. "How typical."

"It's deserved," Willow argues. "It's more-than-deserved. Just not for this."

"Now I know how Clapton felt when he won all those Grammies," Giles quips. "Mum? Dad!" Willow and Xander are blown away by this.

"They have mommy and daddy Gileses?," Xander wonders as he watches the two elderly people on the screen talk to a reporter they obviously wished hadn't come over to their house and disturbed their privacy.

"I always knew you had parents," Willow adds. "In theory, at least." The story ends. Giles feels the need to sit down in a chair in the back of the room. Willow, Xander and Anya walk over to him. Anya moves her hand side to side in front of his eyes. He doesn't react.

"Are you okay?," Anya asks. "You blinked. That's good."

"I'm not bloody catatonic," he snaps.

"You're just having a major league wig-out," Willow says. "Which, I guess, I would do too if I saw Willow Rosenberg, this is you life' on the national news."

"International news," Xander corrects her.

"The coverage was very positive," Willow assures him.

"They left out all of your numerous youthful indiscretions," Anya adds. But let's not focus on what they did wrong. Look on the bright side: now you won't be some no-name pretty boy on your girlfriend's arm. You're also famous."

"Pretty boy?," Xander asks.

"I'm trying to make him feel better. And he's a very good catch for a woman her age. Or, for a woman of any age." Xander's getting jealous.

"He said he was proud of me," Giles declares.

"Who he?," Willow asks.

"His father," Xander answers, completely understanding what Giles is going through.

"He never said that to me," Giles adds.

"Really?," Willow wonders. "That's insane."

"No. It's normal." Xander dissents.

"I had no idea you had such deep-seated parental issues," Anya mentions. Spike, hearing the conversation from twenty five feet away, looks to his left at them.

"An Englishman who's daddy didn't shower him with affection. How bloody common." Anya continues.

"We've spent so much time hashing over and rehashing over our own dysfunctional families that we never even bothered to ask about yours."

"Thank heavens for small favors," Giles says as he stands up and walks twenty feet over to the table. He immediately grabs the spinning stake in his right hand. "It's not a toy."

"I know," Dawn testily responds, trying to grab it back with two hands. When he resists, she digs her nails into his skin, causing him to relent.

"That's very childish of you. You're more mature than that."

"Just watch." She spins it. "Counter-clockwise, it spins and spins. It doesn't stop. I had it going for more than a minute before you yanked it away without asking what I was up to. Which, by the way, is childish." He doesn't like her smartass tone. Buffy would probably say Dawn's picking that up from Connor. She grabs the stake. "By when I try to spin it clockwise." She does this. It quickly falls. "Nothing." She tries again. And again. Then she spins it counter-clockwise and lets it remain upright and whirling. "It spins one way, perfectly."

"I'd say better than perfect." It didn't slow down, even though the force Dawn could impart from flicking her wrist should only have kept it up for two or three seconds at most. It was like a perpetual motion machine.

"But the other way, nothing."

"It acts normally."

"Pretty weird, huh?"

"Not weird. Magic." That would be the only way to draw in enough outside energy to make it appear that the stake was violating the second law of thermodynamics. "But we already knew it possessed magical powers."

"Why this one? Seems pretty pointless."

"It could be a mystical watermark to distinguish the genuine article from imitations." Dawn slowly turns the stake around, looking at the writing on the four sides. She looks looks down at it. Five characters on the end of the handle – a big one in the center surrounded by four normal-sized ones. Eighteen more on each side, in eight descending, narrowing rows: 4-3-3-2-2-2-1-1. She turns it around to look at the point. "Ah-hah!" Dawn runs with the stake into the kitchen. Giles follows. She's rifling through drawers.

"Dawn, what is the meaning of this?"

"It's gotta be around here somewhere. I know I saw it." She reaches into the back of a drawer and pulls out a ball of string, looking excited. Giles just rubs his eyes.

"I haven't slept in three nights, so I'm less patient and more cross than usual. But if you have an idea, no matter how daft, please spit it out." She cuts off a length of string and starts wrapping it around the stake, from the point on up, in a counter-clockwise direction.

"It's a clue. Give me a second." She tries a couple more times, then sits down at the kitchen table. "I can't touch them all on the wraparound. Unless, unless." She cuts off another length of string. "Can you help me?"

"I thought you were trying to help me."

"I am. But I can help you faster if you help, too." He sits down next to her. "Hold this end. Tight." He puts his left thumb on the string when it's at the point of the stake. Dawn winds it up until the string spirals round the handle. "Hold this end, too. It has to stay tight." He puts his right thumb on the center of the flat bottom end of the handle. "Good. Now keep it up in the air like that." The point is six inches above the table. Dawn starts winding the second string, putting her left thumb next to Giles's. When she makes it to the top of the handle, she holds that end down with her right thumb and lets out a brief scream than almost makes Giles let go. "No. No. Not now. Just hold on. It worked. I think it worked!"

Rupert can ascertain what Dawn hadn't bothered to explain. "You think it's arranged in a double helix?"

"I thought it was just one long spiral. Guess I was wrong. But not too wrong to still be right. I hope." She pauses for a few seconds as they sit there holding the strings to the stake.

"Now all we have to do is bring this to the other room without letting go," Giles suggests.

"Makes sense." They stand up and slowly start inching towards the door, which suddenly opens. It's Buffy.

"I heard screaming. Is everything okay?"

"Quite okay," Giles responds.

"What's going on?"

"We're trying to transport the stake."

"Since when was that a two person job?"

"I think we broke the code."

"Ahem," a peeved Dawn responds.

"Dawn may have figured out the sequencing. Could you please step out of the way?"

"Andrew showed me that tape of you on the news," Buffy reports as they walk by. "Rupert Giles, International Man of Mystery," she kids.

"What Andy Warhol didn't know was that you spend most of your fifteen minutes listening to your friends make fun of your fame," Giles quips as he and Dawn snake around the dining room table.

"You want tape to hold the string down?," Buffy suggests. "How bout some glue?"

"Thank you for the offer," Giles responds, "but that would make our jobs needlessly convenient and comfortable." They enter the living room. "Willow, the table," Giles orders. "Get out the characters." Giles and Dawn pivot around so they can sit down. On the table are little pieces of paper with each character drawn on one side and its probable translation on the other side. "Place them in the order I say and see if it makes any sense."

"It makes no sense," Groo tells Cordelia. "How could such things be true?" She rubs his back to comfort him.

"You're asking the wrong person. I don't know how. I just know that they did."

"It's because I left."

"Groo, you had nothing to do with any of this."

"I stay, you are not alone. You don't take that drive. Angel stays home. No one disappears. Things would have been different."

"That night, perhaps. But the Powers would have found me. And Connor would have gotten to Angel. It was only a matter of time. Groo, you're the last person whose fault it was."

"The Gods in this world are cruel. They sustain themselves by feeding off the pain they cause."

"That would explain a lot." Cordy jokes. The more she thinks about it, the more Groo's morbid fatalism makes sense. "I mean that. It really would. Groo? Honey?" He just sits on the edge of the bed and stares straight ahead. Cordy walks out into the hallway, where Wes, Gunn, Fred and Lorne are.

"How's he handling the truth?," Lorne asks. "From your look, I'd say he was fumbling it."

"See for yourself." She opens the door so they can look in.

"She made sex with the demon spawn," Groo says to himself. Wes and Fred each hand Gunn a $20 bill. Cordy turns to look at them.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing at all," Wesley responds nervously. They feel guilty for making sport of Groo's pain.

"Well, obviously somethin'," Fred adds. "But nothin' bad."

"Last week I let them borrow a few bucks," Gunn explains.

"Looks to me like your reality has passed right by the big 'Lug's ability to make heads or tails of it," Lorne offers.

"Meaning what?," Cordy asks.

"Meaning your upgrade may have crashed his operating system."

"Maybe I should have left a few details out."

"No. You did the right thing," Lorne assures her. "He had to know why you weren't with Angel and why you couldn't be with him. Otherwise it woulda looked like you were flat-out rejecting him. And for a fella, especially one as well put together as Groo, nothing's worse than rejection."

"I know rejection, and this looks worse," Wesley disagrees.

"Right now it might. But it's easier in the long run. He knows the matter was always out of his hands."

"Looks like they're on a tight schedule," Xander comments as he drives towards the Hellmouth with Buffy, Faith and Anya. The top of the steel frame for the dome has been completed, the twenty four beams running up to a steel circle that leaves a twelve foot-wide whole in the dome's top. The bottom twenty feet of the brickwork has gone up on all sides, leaving as entrances four three feet-wide, seven foot-high openings, one on each cardinal point. Around each doorway are three stone slabs arranged to form a lintel. What's more, forty feet out from the edge of the round building is a v-shaped ditch sixteen feet wide and eight feet deep, with a five foot-high earthen rampart on the inner side. They get out of the truck.

"Someone doesn't want us snoopin' round their fort," Faith concludes.

"No one goes to this much trouble if unless they have something they need to hide," Buffy adds.

"It certainly is well-defended," Anya offers, following Buffy's and Faith's lead by stating the obvious. "Even if you could force your way in, it wouldn't be worth the cost."

"Let's have look around before we give up," Xander suggests. They've only seen this side of the building, and don't know yet if the entrance they're looking at is the only one. The four of them split up. The area looks deserted. Xander creeps up to the outer edge of the ditch. A Bringer leaps out of the bottom of the ditch, causing Xander to gasp and jump back. The Bringer then falls back into the trench and disappears. A similar thing happens to Anya. When Buffy and Faith take a look to see how many enemies are hiding down there, three Bringers attack each of them. Once they retreat, the Bringers retreat. Then the four remaining Reapers show their faces, one standing in each doorway with its weapons brandished across its chest. The group rushes back to Xander's truck to regroup. "Okay, so they're defending in depth," Xander comments, trying to employ understatement to lighten the mood. Buffy looks at the building a hundred feet away.

"They won't let us get close. Which is exactly why we have to get in before it's too late."

"How many we's' are ya talking about?," Faith asks.

"They brought their army. We'll have to bring ours."

"And lose how many of them?"

"If we do nothing – all of them."

"I remember Riley promising heavy artillery if we wanted it," Anya recalls. "I think he was joking, but if he wasn't, now might be the time to call that favor in."

"They fight by building. We have to do the same," Xander argues. "They move earth. We move it back." Buffy, Faith and Anya don't quite see where he's going. So Xander breaks it down for them. "I fill a dump truck with dirt, back it up to the trench, and fill it in. Then you can run across."

"That would be a good start," Buffy replies. "If we had the heavy machinery."

"You leave that part to me," Xander promises.

"And what about the God-knows-how-many demons waiting for them on the other side?," Anya asks.

"Tell Andrew to take out the catapult."

"What catapult?," Buffy wonders.

"You'll see," Xander says as he drives away. A few seconds later, he puts the truck in reverse and comes back. "Sorry to spoil a good exit, but do you need a ride back?"

Angel walks into Connor's room. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, playing Resident Evil 2. "Since when did you have video games?"

"Eli let me borrow his."

"You're killing monsters. Isn't that a little too realistic to be fun?"

"I'm shooting them. That's completely different."

"When was the last time you opened a book?" Connor pauses the game.

"Cut me some slack. I almost got killed yesterday."

"I let you get away with that excuse, you'll never do your chores."

"What chores?"

"You know, for instance, when you have to . . . I'll think of some when I get a chance."

"And how many times do I get my ass kicked as bad as yesterday?," Connor asks before slowly rising to his feet.

"Are you any better, Connor?"

"Yeah. But my back still hurts. On the plus side, one came back down. You?"

"Same," Angel sheepishly responds, wishing Connor hadn't reminded him of that particular injury. "I bet the others are worrying about how we are."

"You mean how YOU are."

"There care about both of us."

"Maybe," Connor concedes. "But only cause they know you're safer when I'm around."

"That wasn't always the case." Connor smirks. They take the elevator downstairs, where Fred, Gunn and Wes are glad to see them up and about.

"You finally decided to drop on by," Fred notes, causing Angel and Connor to wince. "How ya doin'?"

"Better," Angel assures her. "Anything happen while I was asleep?"

"The Groosalug stopped by," Wesley reports, causing Angel considerable shock.

"What brings Groo by?," Angel asks.

"Cordy," Gunn responds. "Guess he was in the area and wanted to catch up with his old girl."

"Oh no."

"He looked about ten times as shocked as you do right now," Fred comments.

"Groo, are you okay?," Cordy asks. He's in the bathroom, standing at the sink, staring into the mirror.

"I do not belong in this world."

"You're writing off the entire planet because of what happened to me? That sort of thing is very, very rare around here. I promise you that nothing like that will happen to your next girlfriend. Or the one after that. Or to anyone else on this planet. My ordeal was freakish even by my friends' super-freaky standards."

"If only that were all. But it's not. Cordelia, you were the one thing in this world that made sense to me. Now I must say goodbye to you. And to this realm."

"Groo, listen to me. I know that you're feeling confused. But please, please don't do anything drastic."

"I was a fool to think I could adapt. I have no choice."

Cordelia opens the door. In the mirror, she can see that Groo has the blade of a large dagger to his throat. "Groo! No!!!" She grabs his right wrist with both hands. Tears are in her eyes. "You don't want to do this. There are people who love you. For God sakes, but the knife down. Groo, I'm begging you." He drops it to the floor. Cordy hugs him, still sobbing. "You have so much to live for."

Groo is mystified by her theatrics. "I don't understand you." She looks at him and wipes away tears from her eyes.

"You will. I'll make sure of that."

"You like my look?"

"Excuse me?"

"I did not know how passionate you were about the new Groosalug." Cordy's still in suicide watch mode.

"Of course. I love the new Groo. And the old Groo. I love whichever Groo you want to be." He bends down and picks up the knife. She leans down to stop him. "I can't let you do that."

"You can't let me shave?"

"Come again?"

"What did you think I was doing?"

"What did I think? Groo, you had a knife to your throat."

"Cordelia, my princess, that is how men shave," he explains condescendingly, to her chagrin. He stands up, puts the blade to his neck and moves it upward, shaving off the stubble. Then he does the same to his face.

"I guess that didn't have shaving cream in your world." He finishes, splashes his face with water, and lets his hair down.

"Ohhh. You're going home, and so you're returning to your old look."

"That is what I was trying to tell you."

"What a relief. For a moment there I thought you were suicidal. Wow, am I ever glad to be wrong." The two of them walk back into her bedroom.

"Thank you, Cordelia, for showing me my true path."

"That's what I'm here for," she jokes. He hugs her. Angel and Connor enter. Connor still can't remember who this "Groo" character is. Obviously, he was close to Cordelia. Groo lets go when he sees the visitors.

"Angel!" He gives Angel a friendly embrace. Perhaps a little too friendly, considering that Angel's still healing.

"Good to see you too, big fella. By the way, I don't hug other men." Groo stops crushing Angel's bones.

"I apologize, friend and fellow Champion." By now, Connor's had a few seconds to look at Groo.

"You threw a sword at me." Groo looks down at Connor, not quite sure how to react. His memories of adult Connor aren't exactly fond, and now he knows what Connor did to Angel last summer.

"I hope you do not hold that against me." Connor strikes him as the vengeful type.

"Please," Connor replies dismissively, as if Groo's not mighty enough for Connor to care about. "We're cool. You know Cordy?"

This is uncomfortable for Groo, seeing how Connor slept with her. "She was, and is, my one and only love." Connor smiles.

"One and only? Glad to hear that." He puts his right hand on Groo's left shoulder. Groo doesn't know what to make of friendly Connor. "I always thought she deserved a guy like that. Someone whose affections weren't, divided." Connor glances at Angel. Groo doesn't know about Buffy, hence he can't understand Connor's insinuation. Angel begins to get nervous. "A guy who doesn't get her impaled."

Groo gasps. "I thought that wound was made by a Polgara demon."

"Let's go somewhere to talk," Connor suggests, leading Groo out of Cordy's room and towards his own. Angel and Cordy don't know what to do, so they just stand there and let Connor take Groo away.

"Should we let him be alone with Connor?," Angel asks. "He could tell Groo some upsetting truths about certain other men."

"You mean Xander?"

"That's right. Xander. Never mind."


	59. Final Chance For Victory

Buffy and Giles stare are Xander's contraption. It is six feet long, resting on two three foot-high metal poles. "What is it, again?," Buffy asks Andrew.

"A weapon."

"What kind?"

"It appears to be a mechanical catapult," Giles guesses. "There's the engine up front, which would drive the loading mechanism, and this lever in back must be the trigger. Has he tested this contraption?"

"Sorry," Andrew answers. "He was afraid the neighbors might mind."

"Don't have to worry about those now," Buffy comments as they stand amidst the vast empty landscape. She sees Xander coming from the south and east. He's driving an enormous dump truck. Stopping a hundred feet away, he climbs out. Buffy rushes over to him.

"I like your thinking," Buffy begins. "If the Bringers try and stop us, you can just run them over with this monster."

"Actually, my plan was to fill the ditch the gravel in back."

"Also a good idea. Where did you get this on such short notice?"

"A bunch of guys I've worked with are waiting to help clear the wreckage. They let me borrow it. Even filled it up. I said I was repairing craters in the roads so their jobs would be easier." They walk over to Giles and Andrew.

"What precisely is this thing supposed to shoot?," Giles asks.

"And when did you find the time to build it?," Buffy wonders.

"Last week."

"So this is what you were doing in the garage," Buffy notes.

"My way of still being useful."

"I helped, too," Andrew points out.

"Andrew was my extra pair of hands," Xander jokes darkly while looking over his device. "It's a pretty simple toy. Lawn mower engine pulls a fan belt down a metal frame. Biggest problem was figuring out how to aim the damn thing. Still haven't completely solved that problem."

"A gas powered demon-killing machine," Buffy observes. "What gave you that cool idea?"

"When you told us about the horde of uber-vamps coming our way. I thought that if they're going to attack in bunches, we better be able to kill 'em in bunches."

"A stake-shooter."

"That was the original. Then I noticed the sixty-plus Bringer knives we have." He opens a plastic bucket.

"Offing the buggers with their own knives and forks," Giles responds with a smile.

"This thing can shoot a lot of stuff – stakes, knives, darts, small rocks. Or so I hope. First we have to see if it really works." Buffy and Giles move back. Andrew pulls the cord, starting up the small engine in front. Xander reaches out his right hand and pulls a lever up. This engages the thick rubber "bow" to the drive train, pulling it back. When it's pulled back all the way, the lever automatically disengages. Andrew puts the thin end of the dagger handle into the slot, so it's upright. Xander pushes the trigger in back upwards, releasing the bolt. The knife zips through the air, going two feet above and one foot to the right of the tree stump fifty yards away that Xander was aiming for. It continues for another hundred yards before slicing into the soil and disappearing. Andrew helps Xander lift the back supporting pole and move it so that the weapon aims a little more to the left. With all the weight in front, it's not hard to lift the back end. The front support is solid metal. The rear support is a hollow square-shaped shaft Xander cannibalized from an adjustable gym bench. Andrew pulls out the pin, lifts the arm up a slot, and slides the pin back in. An imprecise method of aiming, but better than nothing. The second shot hits the stump. Two more quick shots tear off sizeable chunks of wood. Xander turns off the motor.

"No kinks to work out," Xander notes. "I got lucky."

"Hello flying fatalities," Buffy says with approval. "All we need to do now is get the enemy in the open and keep them from rushing you."

"Filling in the ditch should take care of the former," Giles predicts. "And from he looks of it, the weapon's firepower will handle the latter."

"No and yes," Buffy responds. "What if they hide behind the dirt pile? What if they stay inside? And do we even know if what we're looking for is even there yet? I'm not going to fight my way in there, at the cost of who knows how many lives, and discover that it was all for nothing."

"Those Bringers weren't guarding nothing," Giles argues. "And if we don't move quickly, we will lose our best chance of ending this."

"Are you certain we can trust this oversized rodent?," Wesley asks Angel.

"I'm certain I can't."

"Then why not take us along as backup?," Gunn wonders.

"It would look suspicious."

"Everything about that weasel was suspicious," Cordy comments.

"Especially that part about bringing only me," Fred adds.

"No it wasn't. You're the hostage," Angel explains, causing Fred to gasp. Wes and Gunn are shocked at his seeming nonchalance about her safety. "He's going to offer me something valuable, for a price. He's afraid I'll take it without paying. If all of us show up, he'll have the exact same fear. It will look like we plan to overpower them."

"And what keeps them from roughing up Fred?," Cordy asks.

"Me. He knows that if anything happens to her, he's dead."

"I'm the counterweight on the balance of terror. Jus' what my folks always wanted for me," Fred jokes with trepidation. The phone rings. She answers. "Angel Investigations. How may I – oh. Hi Kelly. It's for you," Fred says to Wesley. Her face noticeably tensed up when Kelly told her who she was.

"Hello Kelly. How are things where you are?"

"Changing at about seventy miles an hour."

"You're on the road."

"Heading in your direction. Wanna hook up?" Wesley takes a few quick breaths while preparing his response.

"When did you have in mind?"

"Forty five minutes from now. Your place. My boat leaves San Diego at midnight. Which, taking into account the rush-hour traffic, should give us about four hours. You interested?"

"Well, I . . . um . . . of course - "

"Wes, honey, I know it's really short notice and, let's face it, not exactly the most romantic pitch in history. If you have life-saving, demon-killing work scheduled, I understand completely."

"I can be at my place in fifteen minutes."

"Too bad I can't," Kelly responds. She smiles and hangs up.

"Seeing as we have no, pressing matters or, unsolved cases, I'm going to head out for a few hours," Wesley stammers as he gets his coat on. "If anyone needs me, if there's a pressing emergency of some sort, you can leave a message on my machine. Best of luck with your meeting, Angel." Wesley grabs the tape out of the VCR and leaves the room. Everyone's quiet for a few seconds.

"Did someone just give Wesley a booty call?," Cordy asks in disbelief.

"Sounded like it to me," Gunn responds.

"She's certainly got him under her thumb," Fred says with a mix of revulsion and jealousy. "Ahm gonna go home for a couple hours. Take care of a few things. How 'bout I meet you in front of the building at nine?"

"Sure," Angel responds. Fred leaves. "Why did Wes take that tape?"

"I think it's the one with our news story on it," Gunn guesses. "Probably wants to show her."

"Let's hope he doesn't want to add anything to it," Cordy worries, causing all three of them to shudder.

Giles makes a crude drawing on an easel of a sphere supported by a tripod. "For the stone to be activated, there must be something on top of it: an obelisk, or needle, according to the sources. Once it's been topped, the stone can't be destroyed. In fact, merely touching it is supposed to cause instantaneous death to humans and demons alike. Which means, among other things, that there would be no need to protect the finished device. Right now, it is heavily protected, indicating that it is unfinished and vulnerable. If one of us can make it inside the Arena and break off even a flake from the stone, it will lose all of its power, and the First's chances of achieving total victory will be ruined."

Amanda raises her hand. "What about partial victory?," she asks nervously. "Even if the world doesn't end, could Nina still kill all of us?"

"She won't become any less powerful," Giles responds evasively. "But remember, she exists to serve the First. If the First Evil can't achieve its primary objective, it may remove Nina and send her to another dimension. Damaging the sphere can only benefit us. The difficult part, of course, will be getting inside. That said, I yield the floor to Buffy." The Potentials looks at Faith, confused about why she's not in charge.

Thirty minutes later, everyone's at the Hellmouth. "Don't get why we can't wait for sundown," Spike complains.

"Because, in order to coordinate our action, we have to be able to see each other," Giles explains condescendingly.

"It's not even dusk."

"But it is raining." A light drizzle falls onto them. Spike looks up at the momentarily cloudy sky.

"If it clears - " Spike warns.

"Grab Nina and try to immolate her along with yourself," Giles responds. Buffy and Faith help Xander and Andrew set up his catapult two hundred feet in front of the trench.

"You sure you don't want it closer?," Buffy asks. "Cause once the fight's started, we can't help you move it."

"Any closer, and I restrict my field of fire," Xander argues. "You ready?"

"When am I not?," Buffy assures him. She picks up her phone. "Yeah. Good. Wait for the signal." She hangs up. "Willow says they're all set on the other side."

"That's my cue," Xander says as he walks over to the dump truck. He starts it up, looping to within forty feet of the trench, then backs up towards it. On the other side, Willow, Anya, Dawn and the six Potentials can hear the beeping of the vehicle. No Bringers are visible. Four bronze doors block all the entrances, denying everyone a look inside. The fortified stronghold, with its half-completed walls and soaring iron framework, looks eerily empty. Someone seeing the structure for the first time could not tell whether it was abandoned and decaying or under construction. Xander stops near the edge of the ditch. Buffy and Faith climb onto the back end and release the back door. They get back onto the ground and stay on either side of the truck to protect Xander from a counterattack. The front end of the trailer slowly lifts up and the gravel tumbles down into the ditch. Once it's emptied, Xander drives ten yards forward and Faith and Buffy pull out the twenty five foot-long, six foot-wide bridge Xander and Giles slapped together out of two-by-fours and plywood. It's not meant to support any weight; only to rest of the gravel and provide solid footing. Xander drops the trailer back to its normal position and parks the truck behind his catapult. Spike, who had been guarding the catapult, moves up to join Buffy and Faith. Andrew starts up the weapon's engine. Xander cocks it, and Andrew loads it. For the moment, he lacks targets. As they feared, the Bringers crouch behind the five foot-high rampart. Two hundred of them form a single-file circle around the building. The only way to get them to show their faces would be to attempt a crossing. But that would lead to hand-to-hand combat, denying Xander a clear shot.

To deal with this problem, Buffy decided to lay down the bridge so that it slanted upward and connected to the top of the parapet. The Bringers leap on top of the rampart and try to grab the bridge. Buffy and Faith yank it two or three feet back and, along with Spike, hit the ground. Xander fires, hitting a Bringer's ankle and cutting off its left foot. "Higher," Xander tells Andrew, who helps him change the angle of fire. "No!"

"You said higher!," Andrew complains.

"Back end goes lower, front end goes higher." Andrew feels stupid for forgetting this in the "heat of battle," and puts it down a notch. The next shot nails a Bringer in the chest. "Looks like we're in business," Xander proudly declares. Andrew loads, Xander fires. Another direct hit. Then another. The daggers drift in the wind, sometimes as much as ten feet to the left or right, and one or two feet up or down. But the Bringers are so concentrated in order to prevent the breakthrough that it doesn't matter. As Xander hoped, the two of them get into a rhythm of one shot every three seconds. Buffy and Faith place the bridge straight across the sixteen foot-wide section of filled ditch so it ends at the foot of the rampart. Spike runs across, crouching slightly so the daggers sail above his head. When more Bringers climb to the top of the rampart to fend off this assault, Xander picks them off. Buffy and Faith rush across. The three of them take out their weapons and crouch down on the near side of the barrier, using the Bringers' fortification against them. More and more Bringers rush towards the area under attack. A Reaper guards each of the four doors from the inside, preventing the Bringers from seeking shelter.

Once Xander began picking off the enemy, Giles called Willow. After receiving the signal, Willow walked to within fifty feet of the ditch and went to work, bellowing out spells. A small cyclone picks up the dirt in the rampart in front of her, swirling it in the air. Red flashes appeared in the sky above her. Several bright blue bolts of fake lightning shoot at the building. These are all weak by showy spells designed to get their attention. Then, Willow gets within thirty feet of the ditch and uses her power to blow the Bringers left and right, opening up a gap in front of the doorway. Some of the Bringers fell to the ground. Others flew into the brick walls of the lower dome. Demons on the periphery rush towards the door to close the breach, keeping beneath the rampart for protection against Willow. Amidst the confusion and the flying dust in their faces, which prevents the Bringers from sensing people one hundred feet away, the Potentials get going. After the earthquake and tidal wave, there were plenty of bikes left in destroyed garages around town. On Sunday, the girls each took a mountain bike for themselves so they could move easier around the disaster area. With Willow's razz-matazz shielding their movement, they travel counter-clockwise to the other side, where they join Giles behind and to the left of Xander's weapon. As the dust clears, Willow conjures a glammer of a bridge across the trench. Anya and Dawn brandish their weapons and join Willow in a charge towards this mirage. Just before they stop at the edge and give away the trick, Willow sends out a puff of thick, white smoke over the trench.

The diversion ensured that half the Bringers rushed to defend against Willow (and the Potentials), leaving "only" a hundred for Buffy and Xander to deal with. Inside, six Joiners help Nina put together her Slayer-killing toy. Two of them plant each of the three metal legs of the tripod into the ground. Nina picks up the giant stone and puts it into place three feet above the physical Hellmouth. It doesn't look to her like the parts will fit. But when she lets go, the three legs fuse with the stone. "Kickass. Now where's the last piece? You don't have it! Well tell them to hurry! I don't care how deep in the depths of Hell it is. We're under attack, and the Death Star isn't finished! Oh, what am I saying. You freaks don't watch movies." They disappear into the Hellmouth. She looks up at the half-built roof. "Please let her not have planes," Nina hopes. She liked movies about world-saving heroes and tried to learn from the mistakes of their villains. They had taught her that this is the perfect moment for a major setback. Especially after the minor setback of losing the stake to Faith. That's how these plot arcs always worked. Alas, Andrew has no idea that the Big Bad looks at events through the same pop culture prism that he does. This is a good thing for Nina. If Buffy and Faith ever learned that she thought like Andrew, Nina would lose a lot of her terrifying aura of invincibility.

After twenty hits, the Bringers decide not to make themselves sitting ducks to this infernal contraption. Buffy, Spike and Faith leap atop the abandoned parapet. When the Bringers attack, they hop back down, exposing the demons to more flying steel. They do this again, but the Bringers don't bite. So they run down towards the unguarded door thirty five feet away. Some enemies stand in front of the door. Others get behind them. Spike brandishes his sword and opposes those in front. While they hang back near the door, Faith and Buffy cut a path through the enemies behind them. Faith uses her stake, which kills the Bringers almost the moment it touches them, causing others to back away from her. Buffy chops up those who attack her with a Reaper's sword and dagger. Spike backs up as the ones in front charge, beheading two of them with his sword. They stop atop the rampart, swinging at the demons below them. Meanwhile, Xander has re-aimed the catapult twenty feet to Faith's right. He picks off Bringers as they rush to reinforce the defenses and attack the Slayers. Several get on the other side of the ditch to prevent the enemy from retreating. Andrew quickly adjusts the aim and Xander mows four of them down. The remaining Bringers on that side hide behind the ditch. Xander shifts the catapult to shoot at the Bringers on Buffy's left. This prevents any Bringers from getting behind her, and ensures that they can't climb up to fight on level ground unless they're too close to Buffy or Faith for Xander to risk an errant shot. The Bringers bunch together and charge straight up the rampart. Buffy, Spike and Faith jump down to the other side. Xander gets in a few pot shots. By now, he has killed about half the Bringers on that side, but used up almost all of the knives.

Giles knows it's time for backup. He leads the Potentials towards the bridge. Ariella quickly fires off the ten shots in the magazine of Warren's/Willow's/Andrew's/Izora's gun, taking out an equivalent number of Bringers. Kennedy, Fadila, Rona and Giles fire off their crossbows, and the seven of them run across the bridge and back the Slayers up as they spearhead a charge up the rampart and down to the door. Amanda tosses two daggers to their right while Madari hurls two hatchets to their left. The Bringer defenses are broken once-and-for-all. But when Spike is six feet from the door, it opens, and out step three Reapers. "Balls. Forgot all about you wankers." Spike, Faith and Buffy engage the Reapers in single combat while the Bringers attack the Potentials from their flanks. The Reaper at the back door had passed along Nina's command to get to the other side. Being inside, she hadn't seen the bridge, and thus couldn't tell them that part wasn't real. So thirty of them remain behind to guard that entrance.

The waves of onrushing Bringers make easy targets for Xander and Andrew. In fact, Andrew's sure he saw two and even three demons brought down by a single shot. But they soon run out of Bringer knives and resort to stakes. As Xander had feared, the wooden stakes are too light to stand up to air resistance from this distance, and drop into the ditch or the front of the rampart. The two that hit Bringers don't even wound them because they're just fluttering through the air by then. On the front lines, the Reapers play defense, trying to lure the Slayers forward and away from the Potentials. They retain contact with the girls, but are immobilized by the Bringer charges, and thus no closer to getting inside. Ariella loads the last four bullets they had in the house and blows a quartet of Bringers' heads off. On the other side, Giles, Kennedy, Fadila and Rona reload and fire their crossbows at point-blank range. Standing next to Ariella atop the parapet, Amanda swings a flail down on the heads of the onrushing demons. Buffy, Faith and Spike chop, stab and kick away as they retreat towards the rampart, which Giles has the Potentials stand on top of to create a strong defensive position while Buffy attacks. But his super heroes are tiring. And to make matters worse, the fourth Reaper emerges. Now that they have numerical superiority, the Reapers attack the Slayers and vampire while the Bringers content themselves with tormenting Giles and the Potentials.

Though she has sent in all her forces, Nina senses that the enemy hasn't lost anyone. That's very distressing. If they all break in at once, Nina isn't sure she cant prevent one of them from taking a swing at her magic ball. She looks up and feels the drizzle spitting down on her face. Then she hears noises outside the back door, even though she had ordered all of them to go round front. Nina opens the back door. Once outside, she senses the glammer. The phalanx of Bringers turns to look down at her from the parapet. "It's not real! It's a special effect!! Now go!!!" She slams the door shut. The thirty Bringers run counter-clockwise. Dawn rushes in the same direction.

"Dawny wait!," Willow yells out.

"I think we've done all we can over here," Anya tells her as she follows Dawn. Willow looks at the deserted guard post, turns off her glammer and heads round. As Buffy, Faith and Spike drive the Reapers back, they pursue, knowing that killing them is the only way they'll get inside. If they hang back with the Potentials, they'll exhaust themselves on Bringers and never achieve the objective. This allows the Bringers to get between the Slayers and the Potentials. As if this weren't worrisome enough, a few clever Bringers get on the bridge, surrounding Giles and the girls. Not wanting to watch helplessly, Xander and Andrew rush towards the bridge. But they aren't sure how much help they can give. From his perilous perch, Giles can see the onrushing Bringers bearing down on their left flank. Then Xander hears the whirring of an engine behind him.

"I thought I told you to turn it off," he says to Andrew as they run away from four attacking Bringers who came across the bridge.

"I did! Did you see something?"

"Yeah. They're right behind us!" He turns and sees that the Bringers, having driven the attackers fifty feet away, are resuming their attack on the Potentials. Xander and Andrew give chase.

"Not them. Over there!," Andrew yells as he points to their left. Xander turns and looks. They both stop. It's a man on a Harley. He steps off. The man has long brown hair and wears a sleeveless green tunic and brown leather pants.

"What is that?," Xander asks about the stranger forty feet in front of them. He takes out a broadsword and charges towards the ditch.

"Aragorn!!," Andrew exclaims.

Groo leaps over the sixteen foot-wide ditch in a single bound and runs up onto the rampart, crashing into the column of Bringers. This knocks ten of them off the high ground. He proceeds to hack apart ten more. Groo rushes down the fifteen foot-long ramp down to the fifteen foot-wide flat walkway around the building. He heads in the direction of the Reapers. Buffy struggles to hold off two of them. She sees a sword flash past her from the left. With his first swing, Groo beheads one Reaper. With his second, he slices the other one in half, from his skull through his abdomen. Focusing on Buffy, they never saw him coming. "Ang – . . . " Buffy begins as she glances to her left. Who else could it be? Good question, she thinks to herself when she sees the comically anachronistic warrior by her side.

"Buffy?," Groo asks before turning round to take on the Bringers between the Slayers and the Potentials. Buffy instinctively joins in, fighting on Groo's right. The Reaper fighting Faith lands a left roundhouse kick to her face. When he tries a right roundhouse, she sticks her stake in his right calf. He falls dead.

"Damn, I'm good," Faith jokes, blown away by the lethality of her weapon. To her left, Spike goes at it with the last Reaper. He's cut the demon in the stomach by hasn't been able to put him away. Faith stakes him in the chest, causing the Reaper to keel over.

"I was about to finish him off," Spike maintains after getting bailed out. The girls are utterly mystified by the burly stranger. Giles wonders if he's hallucinating. Attacked on both sides, the Bringers retreat to the wings. Groo and Buffy turn to face the door, which Faith and Spike have been unable to open. Buffy tries and fails. The three of them are simply too exhausted. Groo steps up, kicks it open with his left boot, and leads them in.

"Okay, who ordered the Conan?," Faith asks.

"He's on our side, right?," Spike wonders as they enter. Nina stands in front of the stone, her back to the intruders. She turns around. The sight of Groo is clearly a pleasant surprise for her.

"What are you doing here? You know this isn't your fight." Groo turns tail and runs away.

"So much our new hero," Spike scoffs. Before Groo can make it out the door to protect everyone else, they enter, led by Giles. Willow magically shuts all the doors so the Bringers can't come in. Buffy turns round and is glad to see everyone safe, though she worries about having the Potentials in an enclosed space with Nina. Spike runs at their arch-enemy, with Buffy following on his left and Faith on his right. Nina stands fifteen feet in front of the stone. Her hair is blood red. She wears a shiny green plastic jumpsuit with a black belt around her waist. Spike throws a right hook, which Nina dodges by moving her head to the right, causing her to see Buffy racing past her towards the weapon. Leaving Spike for the moment, Nina leaps at Buffy and hits her with a flying left hook kick, knocking her into the fissure in the earth that extends fifteen feet to either side of the suspended sphere. Buffy grabs onto the edge with both hands to keep from falling into the abyss. Nina dashes left and hits Faith in the face with a lunging right hook. Faith had gotten to within three feet of the stone. She has a hammer in her left hand and her stake in her right. She, too, falls into the chasm. Rona, quickly followed by Madari, Fadila and Ariella, rush to help Faith, only to be stopped by Groo, sword-in-hand. The look up at the stranger, very confused. Giles couldn't stop them because he was busy stopping Kennedy and Amanda, who ran to help Buffy a few seconds earlier. Giles looks to his left and sees the mystery warrior helping him out. He assumes Groo was following his own lead. But Groo had his own reasons for keeping them away from the Titan.

After handling Faith, Nina turns right and butts heads with the charging vampire. Spike grunts as he lands a left kick to her chin that knocks Nina back so her heels are two inches from the center of the chasm. He swings his sword for her left knee, causing her to lift the leg. Spike spins round and swings for her right leg. Nina leaps off that leg, does a back flip and lands on top of the sphere, putting her shins at the level of Spike's face. The Hellmouth creates a four foot gap between them. Spike swings his blade for the front end of the stone. She kicks the weapon away with her right foot. This causes her left foot to slip halfway down the stone. But before tumbling to oblivion, she pushes off and comes at Spike, knocking him back with a right hook kick and down with a left roundhouse kick before her feet hit the floor. By now, Buffy's climbed out and run behind Nina towards the sphere. She swings the hammer in her right hand, but Nina grabs her right wrist when the hammer head is nine inches from the stone. She hits Buffy's face with two left jabs. With Buffy tries to answer with a left hook, Nina blocks it and throws Buffy over her head. She gets up and immediately goes back on the attack.

After standing up, Spike noticed a hand sticking out from the crevasse fifteen feet in front of him. He runs over and sees Faith. When Nina knocked her down, Faith let go of the hammer in her left hand and grabbed the edge with both hands. But they started to slip, and she let her right hand go since that was holding onto the stake. She stuck the front of it into her pants pocket and grabbed the edge again, only to have her left hand slip off. Just as Spike gets there, her right hand loses its grip and she goes into freefall. But only for about two feet. Spike kneels down, grabs her right hand with his right and her right forearm with his left hand, and pulls her back up. Meanwhile, Nina blocks Buffy's right roundhouse kick, left cross and right hook before landing a right uppercut, left cross and right roundhouse kick that puts Buffy on her back by the time Spike and Faith are to their feet. Rather than attack Nina while moving along the edge of the precipice, they rejoin Buffy for a triple assault. Nina hangs back. She looks down to her right and smiles. "Tick-tock," she taunts. Andrew tosses over the sledgehammer he had carried into the building. Buffy picks it up off the ground. Spike charges, hoping to grab Nina. Faith is to his left, hoping to stab Nina with the one weapon that can hurt her. Buffy advances to Spike's right, hoping to get a good whack at the stone while the other two are keeping the enemy busy for a few seconds.

But as they take their first steps, six Joiners, climbing shoulder-to-shoulder with an eight foot needle tied to their backs, reach the top of the chasm. They lean over the edge, letting the object fall on the ground, the pointy end three feet to the right of Nina's right foot. She picks it up and swings it from right-to-left, taking out the legs of Faith, Spike and Buffy just when they were within striking distance. Nina continues spinning, letting the needle go as she lifts its point upward. It slowly spins and sails a few feet before landing atop the sphere, immediately fusing with the stone. A white light emanates from the sphere and travels up and down the four metal prongs. "Damn," Giles says in disgust, knowing they have lost. Buffy hurls the sledgehammer at the stone, which glows and turns the weapon to dust on impact. Nina pulls out the sickle she had on the back of her belt and walks towards the Potentials, who are huddled with everyone else forty five feet away.

"They tell me this blade goes through a girl's flesh like butter," Nina boasts with a gleeful smile. Buffy, Faith and Spike rush back to protect everyone. Nina leaps over their heads, does a flip and lands in front of the door, behind everyone. Groo brandishes his three foot-long sword, protecting the group until the Slayers can run around to help. "You know better," she says to Groo. He swings. She cuts off the top foot of the sword with her sickle, then jumps in the air, flying over everyone and landing on the other side. Groo looks with dismay at his pruned weapon. Giles is disturbed. The sickle's bronze. How could it cut through steel? Spike is the only one standing between Nina and the girls, but she doesn't make a move, standing casually ten feet in front of him. "You think I could take off your head with one swing?," Nina asks Spike as she suddenly lunges towards him and swings the weapon left-to-right, getting the blade within six inches of his throat. "Sike." Buffy and Faith come back around, feeling like idiots after Nina made them run back-and-forth for nothing. Nina takes a step back and puts her hands on her hips. "You got ten seconds to get out of my house before I start punishing for trespassing." Buffy hates getting pushed around by an enemy. She's usually the one who makes these sorts of threats. "Ten . . . Nine . . . Eight . . . " Groo opens the door, prepared for the dozens of Bringers outside. But there's no one. Giles hustles the Potentials out, except for Kennedy, who resists giving into the ultimatum. "Seven . . . Six . . . Five . . . Four . . . " Anya, Xander and Andrew leave. Willow leaves with Kennedy. "Three . . . Two . . . " Giles heads out, followed by Spike and Faith. Buffy grabs Dawn, who was busy getting her first look at Nina. "Hey ladies!," Nina yells, causing Buffy and Dawn to turn around when they're at the door. "Any more outsiders come here to attack me, I'll rip their hearts out."


	60. Indecent Proposal

Buffy hears some unsettling things about Angel from Groo. And Wolfram & Hart make Angel a most unsettling offer to help him help Buffy save the world.

To the surprise of everyone, the Bringers were gone. After failing to prevent the enemy from entering the inner sanctum, they slit their own throats in shame and fell into the ditch they had dug the night before to keep Buffy out. The forty foot strip of ground between the door and the ditch is strewn with Reaper parts and Bringer corpses. The exhausted, disappointed and awestruck gang slowly makes its way in silence through the carnage and across the makeshift bridge. They can't believe they caused so much death, or that their efforts were for so little. Most of them are hurt. Faith has a deep cut in her right shoulder. Buffy has a sizeable gash just above her left hip. Spike has two stab wounds through his chest and a bloody cut above his left eyebrow. All three of them also carry bruises from their tussle with Nina. The Potentials have nicks and cuts on their shins and hamstrings from keeping the Bringers off the ramparts. Their multiple stab wounds aren't nearly as deep as Buffy's or Faith's, but then again they're not Slayers. Giles has a dagger slash in the middle of his right quadriceps, as well as a bloody nose and a bruise under his right eye. Everyone is dusty and grimy from fighting on the loose dirt. None of them took solace in the tactical victory, but instead focused on the strategic defeat. When they are two hundred feet from the building, they stop to put their weapons away and lean against Xander's and Giles's vehicles, exhausted and in pain. Buffy and Faith help Xander carry his catapult back to his truck. Spike looks up anxiously at the clearing cloud cover, fearing a reappearance of the sun. Finally, Buffy broaches what it is on everyone's mind.

"Okay, who are you?" she asks the newcomer.

"I am the Groosalug."

"You're a real Groosalug!," Anya exclaims. "That would explain a lot. Though it wouldn't explain why you're in this dimension."

"What's a Groosalug?," Xander asks about the ridiculous-sounding name. Anya explains.

"They're like Slayers, with penises. And longer life spans. Protectors of the innocent and so forth. But not the innocent on earth."

"You knew my name," Buffy points out. "How did you know my name?"

"Word of your great deeds has carried far and wide over these lands. You are the saver of worlds, and the scourge of demonkind." Buffy smiles. She loves it when strangers sing her praises. Partly because that happens so rarely. Spike doesn't like the competition from another male superhero, especially one who seems intent on charming Buffy.

"Actually, I only saved this world," Buffy demures. "But I've saved it several times." Spike thinks she's flirting with him.

"I heard you were in great peril, and I came to help you before returning to my homeland."

"Big bloody help you were," Spike grouses. "Nancying away from Nina when we had a chance to strike."

"Nina. You mean Na-an."

"That is another one of her names," Giles notes. "You have heard of her?"

"Na-an is the enslaver of worlds. No man can kill her."

"What about a woman?," Buffy asks.

"She would need to be very powerful. Like you. Or my princess." Buffy's about to find Groo a lot less to her liking.

"You're married?," Xander asks.

"I was betrothed back in Pylea, shortly before I became king."

"Pylea . . . that's where Fred was enslaved," Willow recalls. "You didn't have anything to do with that, I hope?"

"I freed all the slaves. With Angel's help, of course."

"You know Angel?," Buffy asks with surprise.

"You know Angel?," Groo asks back with equal surprise. "He never mentioned you."

"How come you're no longer king?," Spike asks, hoping to turn the talk away from Angel and towards the new guy's failings.

"There was a revolution."

"They kicked you out. Bloody amateur," Spike snipes.

"The political life was not for me. I am a warrior at heart. And so I came to this world, to find my betrothed. But it did not turn out as I had hoped. My Cordelia loved another."

"Cordelia?," Buffy gasps. "You gotta be kidding me."

"You know her as well? Then I trust you know how they feel about one another."

Buffy looks confused. "You're losing me with the pronouns, pal."

"Cordelia loved Angel. And he loved her." Buffy gasps and enjoys a few laughs before recovering her breath.

"Angel loves what?" She laughs some more. Groo looks very confused. Spike's starting to like the new guy.

"I left after it became clear to me that they belonged together." Buffy stops laughing, but isn't ready to take Groo seriously, either. She looks at him as if he were delusional.

"You mean professionally. Where else would she find a job?" Groo starts looking at Buffy the way she's looking at him, each one not understanding why the other has such a poor grasp of reality.

"Even before I knew Cordelia loved Angel, I could tell that he loved her." A tense hush settles over everyone. Buffy takes a couple seconds to respond. And she's not the only one who's incredulous. Faith, Willow, Giles and Xander also think he's imagining things.

"You mean he loved her as friend," Buffy suggests. "You must have misinterpreted that."

"He could not stand to see us together. After I arrived, he gave us ten thousand dollars in cash and told Cordy to take a trip far away."

"Ten thousand quid. I guess you can put a price on jealousy," Spike comments with satisfaction.

"Fred told me that some months they have trouble paying the mortgage," Anya reports. "That must have represented Angel's accumulated liquid savings over several years."

"He could have had a windfall," Buffy argues defensively. "And there's nothing strange about wanting to pay to get rid of Cordelia. The thought occurred to me a few times."

"Why are you jealous of Cordelia?," Groo asks. Buffy bursts out laughing.

"Jealous? Please."

"You are both very powerful. But in completely different ways. You fight with your hands. She with her glowing."

"You saw the glowing? What was it like?," Willow asks. Buffy glares at her best friend. "She only did it twice. And she can't do it anymore."

"So much has changed," Groo laments. "She became so unlike the woman I knew. Raising a beast. Making sex with the demon spawn." It takes Dawn a few seconds to realize what he's talking about. But once she does, Dawn expresses her outrage with a right cross to the Groosalug's nose.

"Don't you EVER call him that!"

"You must be the one he calls Dawn. The tamer of the demon spawn." Dawn's face goes red and she hits him again.

"What did I just tell you!" Groo grabs his nose.

"I am sorry. But it is hard to forget the boy he was when returned to this world."

"You were there? When he teleported back?," a curious Dawn asks.

"I saw him emerge from the hell place. He was savage. Fierce. Uncontrollable. Like a wild animal."

"Well, he can still be like that sometimes," Dawn says with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes, making Buffy, Xander and Giles nauseous.

"In my world, they say the daughter is formed from the mother as the son is molded by the father."

"In this world, they say rubbish like that on greeting cards," Spike snaps.

"Your mother must have been very powerful and very beautiful." Buffy smiles and sighs, putting her right hand to her heart.

"That is so sweet." For the moment, she doesn't hold Groo's high opinion of Cordy against him. He's merely confused and unable to understand a world not his own.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me," Spike says, rolling his eyes. He can't believe women are impressed by a guy who talks like he came out of a children's fairy tale.

Dawn was also impressed. "Thanks. Sorry bout the punch . . . es. Just remember, his name is Connor."

"As it was when I met him barely one year ago. He was a tiny infant back then."

"Can we lay off the pre-teen history?," Dawn forcefully suggests. It's the one part of Connor's past that creeps her out.

"I understand. In affairs of the heart, timing is everything." Groo's smart enough to have figured out that he came to LA at precisely the wrong moment. "For all his mistakes and misdeeds, Connor does treat women with respect and gallantry. He takes after his father." Spike groans. "Not all men are as noble as Angel. Which one of you is the Xander?"

"That would be, the me," Xander jokes. From the look on Groo's face, it's obvious he doesn't like the joke.

"You are the one who impaled by princess?"

"Impaled! What are you talking about?"

"Ahem," Willow reminds him sheepishly.

"Ohhh. That wasn't my fault. It was Spike's fault." Groo glances at Spike, who looks astounded. He genuinely has no idea what Xander is talking about.

"I never stuck a bloody thing in that woman. I swear on my soul. Which, by the way, I earned. Unlike some vampires."

"Actually, she wouldn't have been impaled without you," Anya clarifies. "Still, the pain caused by Xander's wandering lips and busy hands took far longer to heal." Groo still has his hands balled up in fists, making Xander nervous.

"Look, the whole jealous ex-boyfriend thing, I get that. Been there myself. But perhaps you're directing your anger at the wrong man. I'm not the one who broke you two up." Xander can see Buffy scowling. "Anyway, there's a statute of limitations on these things."

Groo reaches out his right hand and takes hold of Xander's strange-looking left hand. He quickly pulls it off, shocking himself. Groo's never seen a prosthetic. He looks it over, realizes its a substitute for a flesh hand and hands it back. "I am sorry," Groo tells Xander. "I did not know."

"That's okay. Water under the bridge, big guy."

"I would never hurt a cripple."

"Now wait just a second!"

"I believe handicapable is more politically correct," Spike crudely jokes as he walks over to Groo and puts his left arm around his shoulders. Buffy worries about what Spike's concocting. Naturally, she assumes it's something to hurt Angel. "Let's talk," he suggests as they walk together.

"You are a vampire with a soul. Are you a champion?"

"I've never been one to get caught up in labels. But enough about me. You said you're going home. Why? There's nothing there for you anymore. Obviously, there isn't anything for you here. Have you considered a third option?"

As Fred walks to her door, she hears the phone ring. By the time she's inside, the machine's picked it up. "Hello. This Graham. I was one of the commando leaders you worked with during the blackout. I happened to be in town for a few days to visit some friends, and I was wondering, if you were free - "

Fred picks up. "Hi Graham."

"Hey. You remember me, right?" For her not to would have been humiliating.

"Of course. The boy from the Oklahoma panhandle. Were you in Sunnydale these past few days?"

"Mostly outside of."

"I thought the army was still there."

"The army is. Now that the situation's settled down, they're cycling out the specialists so we can get back to demon fighting. I ship back out on Thursday. But while I'm here, I thought maybe we could get together for dinner or something?"

"That's sweet, Graham." He can feel the pangs of rejection already. "But I don't know. My life's kinda unpredictable. I can't predict if I'll be free tomorrow night. Something could come up. It usually does in this line of work."

"Don't I know it. What about tonight? I know it's short notice - "

"I have plans to be held hostage." Graham winces. She'd rather be abducted that date him? Now that was brutal.

"Wow. I've heard a few interesting excuses in my day, but that's gotta take the cake."

"It's not an excuse. I'm completely serious. It's complicated. Look. The hostage thing is at nine. It shouldn't take too long. There's this Tuscan place I like called Lorenzo's. It's on Wilshire, about three blocks over from the Vine intersection. I could meet you there at ten."

"Great. That's, that's great." Talk about a swift reversal of fortune. A few seconds ago, Graham was road kill. "I'll see you there." For her part, Fred's flattered by the attention. Charles and Wesley had taught her that sometimes when you take men's affection for granted, they find someone else to bestow it on. She doubts the whole visiting friends story, and gets a kick out of the idea that a guy she's maybe spent a cumulative total of ten minutes talking to would travel ninety miles out of his way just to ask her out.

"You want me to send him to Scyra?," Anya whispers to Spike. They're back in the bunker, talking in Anya's room. Groo's outside at ground level.

"Cum on! He's a perfect fit. Don't tell me that bloke doesn't strike you as a dyed-in-the-wool pre-modern."

"He clearly has Angel envy. And he's not exactly crazy about you. How do you think he'll react to living in a world where the two of you are worshipped as deities?"

"He'll be the biggest bloody celebrity on the whole bleeding planet. And to top it off, the bloke's got superpowers!"

"They would probably see him as a lesser god," Anya concedes. "Why are you so eager to help him? What's in it for you?"

"I'm trying to do a lost guy a favor. Which, by the way, involves me doing absolutely nothing. No skin off my nose."

"This isn't like you."

"Anya, I've changed."

"Not that much. Don't embarrass yourself by trying to pull the phony saint act." Then it occurs to her. "Very clever! I gotta hand it to you. Exploiting this opportunity took some pretty crafty strategizing."

"What the bloody hell do you mean?"

"Groo has this whole Angel-belongs-with-Cordelia mindset. He goes to Scyra, he spreads that idea. A guy with firsthand experience would carry a lot of weight. And the strengthening of the anemic Angel-Cordy faction couldn't help but buttress the Buffy-Spike faction. The relationships are complementary."

"You really think all that crossed my mind?"

"You'd have to be an idiot for it not to." Spike takes his time before replying to that one.

"My people have one set of views. His people have another. They're both dead-set in their ways. We accepted that before we left."

"What about the millions of people they've conquered? Their minds have yet to be made up."

"I could care less about what blokes I've never met who live in another bloody dimension think of me. I have more important things to worry about."

"You wouldn't do this if it didn't benefit you in some way. No one does anything purely out of the goodness of their heart."

"Will you give him the spell?"

"Sure."

"What's in it for you?," Spike asks with a puckish smirk.

"I'm curious. Plus, altering the fates of individuals, and possibly an entire world, gives me a certain god-like thrill that I've been missing ever since I lost my demon powers."

"Playing God can't be much fun. People blame you whenever anything goes wrong. Who wants the hassle?"

Angel and Fred walk into the lobby of Wolfram & Hart. It hasn't been completely repaired, but all the blood's gone. The cavernous space is empty, save for a sleepy security guard sitting in front of a desk forty feet to their right and a tall bald woman in a shiny, floor-length, sleeveless silver gown thirty feet in front. Mona gives both of them the creeps. But the creepiness is just beginning. Fred and Angel shiver, then look at each other. "Did you hear something?," Fred asks him.

"Follow me?"

"That's what I heard, too. Ya think we should?"

"Don't see what choice we have." The suspicious telepath leads them to the elevator. The ride of seems far longer than it actually takes. Angel and Fred alternate between trying very hard not to stare and being unable to resist the urge to stare. Wolfram & Hart has always contained its share of weirdos, but Mona has a disturbing Sphinx-like quality the others lacked. She's not simply mysterious. She's nothing but mystery. For the time being, Fred can write her off as a telepath with a Sinead O'Connor fixation. But Angel sees something more sinister. To him, she's a terrible beauty, to borrow Yeats's phrase and use it completely out of context. In her he can sense that most dangerous combination of personality traits – malice and innocence. When the door opens on the twenty third floor, Mona leads them to Clayton's office. The entire floor is quiet. His secretary's gone. She stops in the empty waiting room and "tells" Angel that Clayton Jenkins will see him now. After pausing for a few seconds to contemplate if this is a trap, Angel realizes he only hears one person on the other side of the door and enters. Mona tells Fred to sit on the couch. "Don't worry. The two of you will be out of here in ten minutes," Fred hears in her head. Suddenly, Mona leans down and gives Fred a quick kiss on the lips. Her eyes bug out in shock. Then they close. Fred's body falls to the right as Mona sits down. Fred's head lands in her lap. She strokes Fred's hair with her right hand and sticks her left thumb in Fred's mouth, smiling mischievously as Fred starts to suck on it. It may be a rather juvenile practical joke that is a waste of Mona's abilities, but it's also a way to pass the time. And what good are enemies if you can't have fun at their expense?

"It's a Celtic torque," Angel comments, rather underwhelmed by what Clayton has handed him.

"It's a magic torque. Fashioned by Druidic priests from the Treveri tribe in northern Gaul, late second century B.C. Think of it as a circuit. Right now, there's that one centimeter gap in front. Put it on, both ends touch your skin, and the circuit is completed through you. Then you just let the positive feedback loop do its thing and make you more and more powerful. Provided you're worthy and noble and all of that Arthurian bric-a-brac.

"You mean it's a suicide machine," Angel replies with raised eyebrows.

"Come again?"

"A positive feedback loop keeps getting hotter until the material melts."

"The torque was designed to enable a champion to rise to the occasion and overcome whatever evil forces threatened the people. The problem was that sometimes the evil would be too great, and the champion would be filled with more power than human flesh could bare. As a vampire, your threshold would be much higher. I understand your concern. You have your own business. Friends. A son. If you want, you can always use that other vampire as a guinea pig. Who knows? Maybe he'll turn the tide, go up in flames, and then you'll put it on, finish the job and survive. Tradition has it that the last time the object you're holding was used, ten men wore it, one after the other. They all died, but they killed the demon, stopped its ascension and saved Strasburg. That was nine centuries ago. But I'm sure it still works. So go play Galahad and save the day."

"What's the catch?"

"Her." Clay picks up the remote and turns on the television behind his desk. On the screen is a red-headed girl. "Leslie MacDonough. Age ten. Lives in Oxnard. No brothers or sisters. I have her home address, school address, and the address of the gymnastics center were she spends her early evenings on most weeknights. I think the parking lot outside the gym will be the easiest place to get her tomorrow night. You'd have to do it by then. Because the big game's in thirty six hours, and your team is a four-to-one underdog at the inter-dimensional web site where I made my bet. Myself, I put down two hundred grand in cash on the Forces of Good. Had to take out a second mortgage on my house. Like I'll need it if they lose."

"Why do you want this girl out of the way? What sort of special powers does little Leslie have?"

"None. She is of no concern to me or anyone else at this firm. I picked her pretty much at random. That's the beauty of this. An act of pure, senseless evil. In exchange for saving the world. Look at it this way – you refuse, the good guys lose, she'll probably die anyway. Then won't you feel stupid."

"No. I would feel stupid if I took your deal and found out this was nothing more than a clunky piece of jewelry."

"In which case, once you got back in town, the first thing you'd do is kill me." They stand in silence for a few seconds. Clayton can tell that Angel buys his argument about why this is not a bluff. But he can also tell that Angel is dead set against taking the deal. "I understand. Buffy has saved the world again and again. Though sometimes she's had to die in the process." Angel's eyes light up with anger. "You must have wondered if your presence would have made a difference."

"How dare you." Angel says as he moves menacingly towards Clayton, who doesn't flinch because he knows Angel wouldn't risk getting Fred hurt. "You don't deserve to say her name."

"It was a closer run thing than you could possibly imagine."

"How the hell do you know? Were you there?," Angel asks sarcastically, assuming this guy's full of it.

"Afterwards, an elderly demon came to us for protection. He had been right in the thick of it. He testified to what he saw and did. Gave us a lot of unrelated knowledge he had acquired over the centuries. In exchange, we sent him to the dimension of his choice, where he is living out his golden years." Clayton picks up a thin manilla folder. "It's in here if you want to read it. Six pages. Double-spaced. Of course you don't." He puts it back down on his desk. "It was tragically anti-climactic. Glory was already dead. But, while Buffy was busy killing a mighty god, a lowly demon tried to open the portal. All Buffy needed was one fighter to stop that lone demon. One fighter. That's it. Oh well. Nothing you could have done about that one. You were in another world. But this time you're around to make a difference. What if you choose to do nothing, and she dies? Sure, right now telling me to go screw myself is a no-brainer for an ethical guy like yourself. But it won't seem so cut-and-dry afterwards. By the way, anyone else in that town you care about? Are there other lives in the balance? What are the chances of every single one of them surviving?"

"Let me guess: I say no, and you still kill this girl, just to piss me off?"

"What fun would that be? You say yes, I want Leslie's death to torment you. You say no, I want Leslie's life to torment you. Which will it be?"

Angel hurls the torque through the television screen. "Two things you should know: I don't work for people I don't respect, and Buffy doesn't need help from scum like you."

"True, and true. Your point being?" Dissing this guy was like trying to eat jello with a fork. Angel turns around and storms out. "Don't worry about the tv. Not my problem. The firm will pay for a new one." No point letting Angel even get a sliver of satisfaction from dramatically symbolic property destruction. After Clayton mentally signalled to Mona that Angel wasn't taking the deal, she pinches Fred's nose, causing her to cough, open her eyes, and notice – to her horror – that she's lying on someone else's lap and sucking someone else's thumb. Fred leaps to her feet, wipes her mouth and looks disgusted. Mona smiles mischievously at her. Fred feels icky. And somewhat lightheaded, as if she's coming down from some drug trip. Also, Fred has vague memories of a very colorful dream. She's not quite sure how profoundly Mona fiddled with her brain chemistry. But she knows that Mona is going down. No one messes with Fred's brain and gets away with it. Angel comes into the room.

"Let's go. They got nothing." The two of them quickly walk into the hall and towards the elevators, each one with their own reasons to leave as fast as possible. Mona stands up when Clayton leaves his office. They stick their heads out of the waiting room and watch Angel and Fred walk away. He puts his left hand on her skull. Through her thoughts, she tells him that he should have skipped the quid pro quo and just given Angel the torque so he'd be in their debt. Clayton shakes his head.

"This wasn't about co-opting. It was all about getting the chance to make the offer. Do you know what my definition of good offer is? One where the other guy loses no matter what choice he makes."

NEXT: Giles discovers a way to win. But it's the sort of tactic you never want to be forced to try.


	61. Come Together

The Potentials are all together in one of the bedrooms in the back section of the bunker, bandaging their wounds and discussing their vocation. "So it's going to be one of us?," Madari asks.

"I think they're down to the final six, and one girl's gotta get chosen," Amanda guesses.

"Like the Miss America Pageant," Rona quips.

"I don't want to sound like a coward or nothing, but I hope it's not me," Fadila confesses. "And I don't think I'm the only one. Sure, I'll serve and I'll fight and do what I'm supposed to if it's me, but I'd kinda like to get back to waking up each day and not wondering if it could be my last."

"Almost forgot what that felt like," Rona adds.

"I don't feel that way," Kennedy dissents. "It's an honor to become a Slayer."

"I didn't say it wasn't," Fadila nervously clarifies.

"But it comes with a death sentence," Madari notes.

"It ain't like winning the Oscars," Rona points out to Kennedy.

"Everyone dies," Kennedy retorts. "But how many people can say that their lives made a real difference?"

"You want to become the Slayer?," Ariella asks.

"Well, yes. Don't you?" Taken aback by the question, Ella doesn't answer one way or the other.

"You think Faith and Buffy wanted do?," Fadila argues. "I mean, you know, after they were Slayers, you think they never wished they weren't? That just seems to me like the natural thing to think."

"Because they weren't prepared for it," Kennedy responds. "With us, it's different."

"I guess I wouldn't be disappointed if I wasn't the one chosen," Amanda concedes, trying to put herself somewhere in the middle. Barely thirty feet away, in a bedroom in the front section of the bunker, Giles is with Faith, Buffy and Willow.

"Faith's stake wasn't created merely to slay demons. Or so the writing on it appears to indicate. It was intended to create more Slayers. To widen the reach of the original spell."

"You're talking about the Potentials," Buffy concludes. "It was meant to help more of them reach their potential, so to speak?"

"That was the hope," Giles responds.

"And the priestesses didn't have the power to pull it off?," Willow asks.

"They never tried. The behavior of the Slayer after she acquired the sickle gave them pause. It reminded them of the demon origins of a Slayer's power, and of the inherent ability of all power to corrupt."

"You mean they chickened out," Buffy argues.

"They also ran into certain technical difficulties. The spell can only work in the moments after a Slayer has died while holding the stake. The magician must then take hold of the weapon and harness its energy before the Slayer's power has passed to another girl and before the demon who killed the Slayer has the chance to kill her as well. Hence, any attempt to carry out the spell would have been inherently impractical under existing conditions."

"So this is why you brought me into your little pow-wow," Faith comments, not liking where this conversation is going. Giles attempts to reassure her.

"Faith, as I said earlier today, the First cannot win so long as you are alive. If Nina kills you, she will use the device we saw today to capture your power, and there will never be another Slayer. This new information means we might stand a small chance of counter-acting her."

"You mean I will," Willow clarifies, feeling the weight of this possible burden.

"I hate having to discuss this, but we must prepare for all eventualities," Giles offers defensively.

"No. No, it's okay," Faith begins. "How else are we going to beat Nina? She's too much for the two of us."

"Perhaps you misunderstood me," Giles replies. "Your death will probably result in our defeat. It is something none of us wants to see come to pass."

"I get it. It's a longshot. But what shot do we have right now?"

"Faith, you can hurt her with that weapon," Buffy points out. "You already have. You're the only one who has."

"But can I kill her? Stake through the heart, she said ouch, but she kept right on going."

"If you can hurt her, then you can make her drop the sickle," Buffy argues. "And I can pick it up. Maybe we need both weapons to get the job done."

Giles attempts to explain further why he is not advocating Faith's death. "No one knows how long a Slayer interregnum lasts. Perhaps a few seconds. Or a few minutes. Or even a few hours. Therefore, even if Willow were able to pull this off, the girls could be long dead by the time they receive your power."

"Why did they go to so much trouble to hide this weapon?," Buffy asks. "Was the Council afraid of letting the power get out of their control?"

"Probably not. As both of you remember, a Slayer does not manifest her power until she has been put under great stress."

"That why she threw me in the path of that hungry vamp?," Faith asks.

"Yes. You received the power as a defensive response to a life-threatening situation."

"Like an adrenaline rush. Times a thousand," Buffy offers.

"More or less. So even if the power had been extended, the girls would not have been imbued with it until until a Watcher had exposed them to a demon attack, or perhaps if their village was sacked by barbarians, someone tried to rape them, or something of that order. In any case, Slayers beyond the control of the Council would have been quite rare. A far greater worry was that expanding the Slayer line would destroy it, that the dozens and dozens of Slayers they created would be the last."

"That's the least of our worries now."

"Faith, this isn't what any of us wants," Buffy assures her.

"Fine. I get that," Faith responds as she stands up. "Look, it's late. I'm gonna hit the hay." Willow, Giles and Buffy understand how tough all this must be to deal with. They leave her room. Willow rushes off to her own bedroom. She doesn't like the pressure of knowing that there may a moment when the burden of saving the world would fall entirely on her shoulders. Faith paces back and forth for a while. Then she sits on her bed and slowly twirls the stake in her right hand.

On Wednesday morning, Cordelia walks into Angel's room. "Good. You're dressed," she begins. "Not that I would find it horrible if you weren't. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's good you're up and awake, because there's something I need to tell you."

"Is this about why you're leaving?"

"No. It's about where I'm going. Senior year, I was accepted at Columbia. When the government took my parents and their money away, I deferred admission. Mostly just so in case my meteoric rise to superstardom didn't quite pan out, I'd have a reminder that I wasn't a complete failure. I never thought I'd actually enroll. It was mostly for pride. Which, when I came here, was kind of all I had."

"No it wasn't."

"Other than looks and talent, of course." Cordy jokes. "But how far can those get you?"

"It's been four years. Don't these things usually have a time limit?"

"I guess they liked my essay on what I'd been up to. Don't worry, Angel. I only included the parts that wouldn't make them think I was crazy. Which means I kind of did a lot of lying. But the sort or lying where your heart's in the right place. I wanted them to know that I'd made good use of my time. Except for most of the past year, but you know what I mean."

"I do. You've grown into quite the hero. And quite the woman." This makes Cordy tongue-tied for the moment. "So was this what you were busy doing your first week back?"

"Except for a little shopping." Now Angel's a little tongue-tied by the thought of losing Cordy. "Angel, it isn't easy for me to leave you. And everyone else. You're like family, except less manipulative and a lot more dependable. But I have to make a fresh start, in a fresh place."

"I understand. Doesn't mean I approve. But it's not my call."

"I guess it's hard to continue living in a town after you've rained fire down on it. That doesn't mean I'm giving up on helping people. I'm sure their are plenty of helpless people in Manhattan."

"LA's loss is the Big Apple's gain. At least you still have a couple months before classes start."

"I'm leaving tonight."

"What? Why?"

"There's a summer course being taught by this writer I really like. Plus, I want time to settle in before the fall semester."

"Do you even have a place to live?"

"A friend's letting me stay at her place. I'll find something in a couple weeks. I'm sure it won't be as nice as my place here."

"You could luck out and run into a vampire with a rent-controlled apartment."

"You know of any?," Cordy asks with a smile.

"I did. But that was a long time ago. I was just kidding." Cordy looks disappointed. "You'll do fine. You're too tough not to." Angel gets agitated by Cordelia's news. "Why can't you stay a little longer? At least until things settle down here."

"I did. But now that you killed Mal, things are as settled as they're gonna get. Everyone's safe. Connor's home. He almost likes you. Things are finally the way they should be."

"No they're not. You're leaving."

"I didn't say things are perfect. They can't be. Especially for you." There are a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence as Angel declines the chance to tell Cordy his own surprising news. "I should go and tell the others." She leaves. Angel sits down and broods over all the things that are on his mind at the moment.

"Where's Fred?," Cordy asks Gunn and Wes when she gets downstairs.

"It's nearly eleven," Wes notes. "She's usually in by now." Fred walks through the front door with Graham. Their jaws drop.

"Who's Fred's new stud?," Cordy wonders.

"Graham?," Gunn says in disbelief.

"What the devil is he doing here?," Wesley adds.

"Did you people make new friends while I was evil?," Cordy asks them.

"He helped us out during the blackout," Gunn responds.

"Graham's military," Wesley explains.

"Like your Kelly girl?"

"Kelly's currently in the private sector. Much like us, except with slightly less risk and far better pay. Apparently, there's great demand overseas for – "

Graham leaves, Fred walks over, and Cordy and Gunn focus on her. She seems quite chipper. "Looks like someone got up on the right side of the bed this morning," Cordy says, cutting Wesley off. He also looks at Fred.

"Ah guess," Fred replies, not quite sure what all the fuss is about.

"You and G," Gunn adds. "That's quite, well, sudden."

"Out of the blue," Wesley comments.

"Why's this any of your business?"

"I'm sorry," Wesley instinctively replies.

"Didn't mean nothin' by it," Gunn assures her.

"It's the polite thing to do when a friend comes to town." Now they're confused.

"Polite," Cordy repeats. "That's usually not a word I use for this sort of thing. Unless it wasn't very good." Fred finally gets it.

"You people are sick!"

"There's no need to get judgmental," Wesley replies.

"After everything that's happened, ya'al don't even have the right."

"Since when did curious count as judgmental?," Cordy asks, defending herself.

"There's nothin' to be curious about. We had dinner, we talked, we had breakfast. We talked some more. He slept on the couch."

"Is he gay?," Cordy wonders.

"Cordy!"

"Sorry. But to pass up an opportunity like that." The thought of such an opportunity agitates Wesley.

"Graham's a nice guy."

"How long is he is town?"

"Until tomorrow."

"So there's still time," Cordy concludes.

"Time for what? Oh. Cordy, it's not like that."

"Well it should be. Why let the guys have all the fun?"

It's the night before. Wes and Kelly lie side-by-side in bed, catching their breath. "That was transcendently sublime. Am I being redundant?," Kelly asks with a laugh.

"In this instance, certainly not. A tad understated, perhaps. It is unfortunate that it takes a catastrophe to bring us together."

"Seems I only get to nail you after a state of emergency's been declared. Wonder what it would take for us to start dating?"

"An apocalypse, I'm afraid." They both laugh. "Bloody hell. It's already ten. You have a ship to catch in two hours."

"Which means we still have half-an-hour."

"I'd hate for you to miss your ride and lose your job because of me. Granted, it would certainly be something to brag about. But it's a two hundred kilometer drive."

"It's easy to be a pessimist when you're using metric," Kelly jokes.

"Is that why you Americans are so bloody chipper?," Wesley quips.

"That, and I have a government car with government plates, which means I'd have to drive like Dale Ernhardt at Daytona before the cops will give me a ticket."

Wesley turns his head to the right and runs his right hand through Kelly's hair. "I have a confession to make."

Kelly takes his right hand in her left and stares at his face from a foot away. "Wow. Guess this means we almost are dating."

"Last week, when Angel was gone, and we were battling Mal, I stayed up late one night working with Fred. And I was severely tempted to sleep with her."

Kelly laughs. "You lusted in your heart? That's your idea of a confession? So long rogue demon hunter. Hello Jimmy Carter."

"Does that mean my honesty causes you to see me as less of a man?"

Kelly thrusts her right hand under the sheets and smirks as Wes gasps and smiles. "Not yet."

"I'm trying to be serious."

Kelly takes her hand away. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Ever," he jokes before getting serious again. "You've always known how I feel about Fred. And the further we get involved, the guiltier I am. I feel like I'm using you."

"Were you a boy scout?"

"Yes. But I don't see how that pertains to the present – "

"You still are."

"I see. So this doesn't bother you?"

"Long as you're not thinking of her when you're with me." She rolls on top of him. "For instance, are you thinking of Fred right now?"

"Certainly not," he responds as his breath quickens.

"And what are you thinking of now?," she asks as she nibbles on his left earlobe and he puts his arms around her.

"Your skin. So, very, smooth." She sits up. His lips quiver.

"How bout now?," she calmly asks as he gets a good look at her naked torso.

"Were we talking about something? I can't quite remember."

Connor's in the empty ballroom in the sub-basement with Elijah, who's tinkering at the upright piano. "Where's Kit?," Connor asks.

"At school. You know, the parochial school that's letting us use a bunch of their empty classrooms."

"How come you're not there with her?"

"I'm a senior. For us, the last month's mostly goofing off. We're not missing anything. It was very convenient how the Hellmouth waited till we finished our AP exams before flattening the town."

"So how come you're not with her?," Connor asks again. "I mean, I like you, but I'd ditch you for Dawn in a second."

"Why should I go? So I could wait forty minutes while she's in class, see her for five minutes, then wait another forty minutes? I'd feel like the suspiciously lurking older boyfriend. Anyway, I see her plenty after school."

"Must be great living together."

"Not together. In the same building. And with our parents. It's like going on a class trip where everyone's parents come along as chaperones. We can be together all the time, but never together and alone."

"You can use my room."

"Sure. That'll scare Kit away." Connor's confused. The idea of two human beings dating for an extended period of time before sleeping together is alien to him.

"Why? She loves you, right?" To Elijah, the idea of two kids being in love after only dating for a few weeks is alien to him.

"Don't know. Haven't asked her that specific question."

"Don't you love her?"

"I like her. A lot. But, Connor, remember when I said you were a really intense guy?"

"No."

"Actually, what I said was, you go straight from neutral to fifth gear. I guess you didn't get it, probably because you don't drive. You're like those drag racers we saw on tv. You know, with the big tires and the smoke and the parachutes?"

"The sprint cars."

"Yeah. That's you. The rest of us are like regular cars on the road. We take a lot longer to get up to full speed." He plays some pentatonic scales on the black keys before segueing into "Ol' Man River."

"Life moves fast."

"Yours faster than most."

"Can't wait till tomorrow. Everything could change by then." Part of this comes from events Connor has experienced as well as caused. A lot of it comes from Holtz's stories about returning home one day to find his family dead. And some of it comes from his experience with vampires. One moment they're immortal, the next they're dust. All of this has taught Connor to see life not as a gradual progression of interrelated events but as a series of sudden shocks.

"It's a good line when you're about to be shipped to the front," Eli jokes. Naturally, this reminds Connor of Nina and Dawn and how both of them were in Sunnydale.

"Gotta go. Business. Gonna see if they need me. Catch you later." Connor leaves. Eli tries playing Thelonius Monk's "Epistrophe." Upstairs, in the lobby, Keith and Lucas walk up to Connor.

"Hey Connor," Keith says.

"Hey guys," Connor nervously replies, avoiding eye contact.

"Have you been avoiding us?," Lucas asks.

"No. Just been busy."

"You know, don't you," Keith asserts.

"Yeah. Guess I do." Connor tries to make eye contact and to not appear callous or casual. "Molly and Rose are dead. I'm sorry." They both look crushed, but not surprised, as if they were expecting this. "I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry."

"How did Rose die?," Lucas inquires.

"I don't know." This was the truth. He didn't know the specifics.

"Did someone kill Molly?," Keith enquires. "Who was it? How did this happen?"

"I, I'm sorry. I don't know. They were both very brave." Connor pauses for a few seconds, not knowing what to add. Then he walks into the office. He knows how futile it would be to try to explain the battle against the First Evil. And he's more used to experiencing loss himself than comforting others who are experiencing it. Inside the office is Fred. "Where is everyone?"

"Wesley and Charles are downstairs cleaning and collating the weapons. Cordy's upstairs packing."

"Packing? Why?"

"Oh. Oops. I'm sorry. She didn't have a chance to tell you yet?"

"Tell me what?," Connor asks, dashing out of the office before Fred has a chance to answer the question. Meanwhile, Lorne is in Angel's room.

"How would you have felt if she came up here when we were dealing with the Beast?"

"That's different."

"Much uglier, from what I've heard. Back home the drawings of Nan-na made her look like Angelina Jolie, only slightly less psychotic. Would that be on the mark?"

"I'm sorry Lorne. I would have checked her out, but I was too busy getting eviscerated. The Beast didn't come after Buffy. She didn't kill its lover."

"He was anatomically incorrect. And made of stone. But that's all beside the point. Buffy will feel insulted. Just as you would if she came here to lend you a hand."

"This is bigger than anything she's ever faced. Bigger than anything I've ever faced. I think that right now she'd put aside ego and welcome the help."

"What help? Angel food, you folks threw everything you had at her, and it did bubkus. I'm sorry, but my gut tells me this is a Slayer thing. It's their fight. Just like the Beast and Mal and a thousand other things have been your fight."

"Then they won't need us. It doesn't hurt to be there. And it might do some good. I don't see any harm in going."

"Once you got your heart set on something, I know there's no getting you to change your mind. But please promise me you'll soft-pedal the Angel To The Rescue' angle."

"Buffy doesn't need a White Knight. But she needs me."

"Oh dear. Oh no you don't. Now is not the time for you and Spike to reprise the whole Butch and Sundance act. Dissension in the ranks is never good on the eve of battle."

"I can't talk to her because Spike might act childish?"

"Sadly, not everyone can handle the presence of ex-boyfriends as maturely as you did," Lorne sarcastically responds, alluding to Angel's exiling of Cordy when Groo came to town. As Lorne leaves Angel's room, Connor enters Cordy's.

"You're leaving," Connor states, mildly annoyed in a self-centered adolescent way.

"I wanted to talk but I couldn't find you."

"I was downstairs with Eli."

"The merry prankster. I wasn't crazy about him at first. But if he's willing to give you and your bizarro world the benefit of the doubt, I'm willing to do the same for him. No matter what Angel says."

"What does he say?," Connor inquires suspiciously.

"Nothing specific. He just worries that boy will introduce you to dangerous new things like, well, all the normal teenage stuff your horrific upbringing saved you from. Angel's being a dad. That's what they do. They worry. When they don't worry, that's when you know something's wrong with them."

"Or when they leave. People I like keep doing that to me." Cordy walks up to him.

"Connor, my leaving has nothing to do with you. I swear."

"I know. But things just got back to how they should be."

"And it's great that we've had this time to set things straight. To finally be ourselves. But I don't have a future here."

"Because you don't have visions? That's lame."

"It's a lot more than the visions. A lot. I nearly got myself killed. I'd be dead now if it wasn't for Willow's sadist streak. It's strange. We each go evil, the world nearly gets destroyed. We go evil together, everything ends up hunky dory. Two wrongs really can make a right."

"But that won't happen again. And we need you. Angel's miserable without you. Okay, more miserable," he adds with a smirk.

"You're looking out for him? Guess my work really is done," Cordy jokes.

"Where are you going?"

"New York."

"How far away is that?"

"About three thousand miles."

"How far away is that?" Abstract measurements of distance mean very little to Connor. "Is it farther than Sunnydale?"

"About thirty times farther."

"Oh." Connor realizes that's quite a trek. I'll still try to visit. I really want you to meet Dawn. You two have a lot in common."

"Like sleeping with you. I'm sure she'd just love me to remind her of that."

"I meant the visions."

"Then we can talk about how well those worked out for me. Connor, I know you mean well in your own adorable, naive way. But I'm not someone she's exactly dying to meet."

"You know she's not really Buffy's sister."

"I didn't say she wasn't without her good qualities. Otherwise you wouldn't be so obsessively crazy about her. Connor, you have to understand, it's not that I wouldn't like to meet Dawn. I don't think she wants to meet me. No girl likes to be reminded she wasn't the first."

"She attacked you. She didn't come after you. There's a difference. Fine. You want to drop by, I can't stop you." Buffy hangs up, frustrated by his stubbornness.

"What was that all about?," Spike inquires.

"Angel wants to pay us a visit tonight. He wants to help."

"Help with what, exactly?," Spike adds suspiciously.

"What do you think?," Giles asks sarcastically.

"I wus thinking that it couldn't be Nina, cuz he did such a bang up job against her on his own pitch. What makes him think an away match would go any better?"

"Did Angel say he was coming here alone?," Dawn wonders.

"Yes, he's bringing his friends," Buffy concedes.

"What about family?"

"And, I suppose, Connor." Buffy sighs with disappointment as Dawn smiles with glee. "It's probably not safe to leave him home all alone." Dawn scowls at the insult.

"This is just the soap opera distraction we need on the eve of the biggest battle of our lives," Xander offers.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Spike concurs, shocked that the two of them are in agreement.

"Do the prophecies say anything about outside help?," Anya asks Giles.

"No," he curtly replies before slamming the book shut. "But what good are prophecies anyway?"

"Guess that story doesn't have a happy ending," Willow concludes. "What is the ending?," she asks nervously.

"Purposefully vague and none-too-helpful."

"Meaning what?," Buffy wonders, concerned about Giles's mood.

"Meaning that the narrative was never linear, and therefore the ending isn't really the ending." Buffy grabs the book and opens to the last page.

"Okay, anyone else here know Latin?" Willow takes a look.

"I think the last line's in Spanish. I knew I shouldn't have taken German in high school. No one ever writes a mystical text in German."

"I too Spanish. I mean, I do," Dawn says, taking hold of the book. "Okay. It's in the subjunctive tense, which makes sense. World peace. That's not bad. The living something the deceased. I can't make out that last verb."

"The world shall be at peace. The living will envy the dead," Giles explains. Everyone gets chills up their spines.

"What was that first part again?," Xander asks.

"Could the world be at peace if the First Evil won?," Willow wonders.

"Temporarily," Anya assumes. "Things always seem great the moment before they go to hell. And the First does have a knack for fooling people."

"But if they're happy, why would they wish they were dead?," Dawn asks.

"That part could just be about us," Spike pessimistically guesses. "Those of us who make it." Buffy glares at him. "I'm not the rainbows and moonbeams kind of guy."

"Screw the stupid book," Buffy declares. "We've made it through prophecies a lot more specific than that. Are their any specifics? Does it name names?"

"Nina's," Giles responds.

"But none of ours?"

"No."

"What does it say about her?," Willow asks. Giles checks his notes.

"That she can be killed. By Five. Something to do with the number five."

"Five by five?," Faith asks hopefully.

"Five by six, actually. But it doesn't get any more specific, or lucid, than that."

"Six Potential Slayers," Faith notes. "But who are the five?"

"You, me, Spike, Willow," Buffy begins. "And Giles."

"If I have anything to do with killing Nina, I'll be as surprised as her," Giles darkly jokes. "Buffy, I think you were on the right track before when you said we shouldn't pay attention to predictions that are too vague to be useful. Our lives, our fate, have always been in our hands. And in our hands only."

"We're going to Sunnydale," Angel announces to Wes, Gunn, Fred and Connor.

"When?," Wesley asks.

"Tonight."

"I thought you said the big fight's tomorrow morning," Fred points out.

"In which case, you ain't gonna do much good," Gunn adds.

"For all we know, it might happen indoors. If Spike can take part, there's no reason I can't."

"Has Buffy agreed to this?," Wesley asks. Angel's silence confirms that she hasn't. "I see."

"You have a choice. Any of you who want to stay here and do nothing, raise your hand."

"You don't defy a commander on the eve of battle," Wesley argues. "Better to offer no help than offer help she doesn't want."

"We have to help," Connor declares. "We already made things worse by killing Mal and making Nina even madder. We owe them."

"How can you be sure we didn't do them a favor by killing him?," Wesley retorts. "If Mal had killed us, there's every reason to believe he'd be in Sunnydale helping Nina at this very moment."

"Speaking of Nina, the last time I checked, we hit her with everything we had and it didn't make a damn bit of difference," Gunn reminds Angel.

"Do we have anything better to do?," Angel asks rhetorically. "It's not in my character to sit back and do nothing. And I didn't think it was in any of yours, either. The rest of you can stay here. But I'm going."

"Me too," Connor announces. Angel loves these rare instances when his son agrees with him, even if he may be agreeing for the wrong reasons.

"Well, if ya put it that way," Fred responds, "It kinda makes it sound like if she kills ya'al down in Sunnydale, we wouldn't stand a chance."

"They don't call it a fait accompli for nothing," Wes concedes.

"Remember when we came back from Vegas, and I said no road trips for at least six months?," Gunn recalls. "It's been six months. What the hell. Count me in."


	62. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Groo meets the Spike and Angel-worshipping leaders of Scyra. Buffy has a surprising proposal for Dawn. Cordy says goodbye, at least for now. And Angel makes his way to Sunnydale.

The Groosalug wanders, awestruck, down the main boulevard in the new capital city of Buffion. Only three years old, it is still very much under construction. Neighborhoods are separated by vast chasms of empty space laid out in rectangular blocks. To Groo's right, hundreds of people congregate in the agora, shopping and sharing news. To his left is the acropolis, fronted by three large, new, gleaming temples. Made nervous by people in the agora who point at him, Groo runs up the stairs to the acropolis. He enters a temple, and sees before him a twenty five foot-tall statue of Angel. He gulps. "They worship him." The dazed Groo staggers forward. Part of him thinks this is too surreal to be real. To his left, in between supporting columns, are eight foot-tall statues of Connor, Fred, Gunn, Wesley and Cordelia. He walks up to the Cordy statue, tilting his head up to stare into her surprisingly life-like marble face. "Do they worship her too?"

At the other end of the acropolis, Hiero and Kreon meet with a foreign ambassador in a long hall. They slouch in chairs on either side of the front end of a wooden table. The envoy who stands before them is a dark-skinned fellow with long, gray hair who wears a red, blue and yellow robe with an ornate pattern. He is clearly made uncomfortable by the brash, uncouth youths and their rough, barbaric, semi-civilized excuse for a court. But he tries his best to hide his feelings behind professional courtesy and protocol, two concepts Hiero and Kreon don't appear, in his opinion, to be very familiar with. He also suspects that, given their recent slew of conquests, that they are a nation of warmongers. Kreon does nothing to disabuse him of this belief, to the consternation of Hiero.

"We have no vassals," Hiero assures Ajanta. "Only allies."

"And enemies."

"Do you want to be our enemy?," Kreon asks. "Cause we don't wanna be yours. You didn't come all this way to start a war, did you?"

"I came to take the measure of your people, and their leaders."

"How'd we measure up?," Kreon asks with a hint of petulance. "We got ourselves a deal or not?"

"The High Elders of Multan sent me here because they believed a partnership was in the best interests of both our states. As is usually the case, they have been proven correct."

"Was that a yes?," Kreon wonders with a smirk. Hiero walks over to Ajanta, shakes his hand, bows, and tries his best to be courteous. Kreon just tears a piece of meat off a roasted chicken, drops it in his mouth and fills up his wine glass as he chews.

"It is an honor to be considered a friend of your great and storied city," Hiero tells the ambassador. "Cleander is waiting in the chambers of the Boule to finalize the text of the treaty with you, including the exchange of gifts and hostages. I look forward to the fruits of this partnership."

"Speaking of fruits, you want a bite before you hit the road?," Kreon asks, holding up a bunch of grapes while talking with his mouth full. Ajanta blanches at the well-meaning offer.

"Thank you, but I shouldn't keep your representative waiting."

"Suit yourself," Kreon says as he grabs a hunk of bread. Hiero sits back down at the table.

"Is this how you treat all foreign dignitaries?," an outraged Hiero asks, knowing that Kreon has negotiated an armistice or two while leading an army in the field.

"Usually I make more threats," he replies with a shrug. "But this time, I had nothing to threaten him with."

"It's a wonder we haven't had more wars," Hiero responds, shaking his head. 

Kreon takes offense at the slight. "I tell it like it is. People respect that."

"They also respect the ten thousand spears you have pointed at their necks," Myrina jokes as she enters the hall and walks up to Kreon from behind. He turns around to look at his very pregnant wife.

"How's my love?"

"How do you think?," she asks in reply, wincing and grabbing her lower back with her right hand.

"It'll all be worth it soon," he assures his wife, hugging Myrina and kissing her belly.

"Easy for you to say. You're a man." She looks across the table at Hiero. "What did Penelope say after she gave birth?"

"That our baby was the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen." Myrina scowls.

"Also, that giving birth it was tougher than fighting in ten battles. And she should know." Now well into her third trimester, Myrina had grown sick of how the men waxed poetic about the miracle of life without considering the pain women had to undergo to make it all possible. "Speaking of which, when was the last time either of you were in the field?"

"Honey, I thought you like having me home."

"That was before it made me pregnant and made you soft."

"I'm not soft," an obviously hurt Kreon responds. He pulls up his tunic to show his flat stomach as proof. This sort of thing used to turn Myrina on, but not anymore.

"Is that so? When was the last time you killed a man?" He's too shocked to respond to this question.

"Don't worry," Hiero assures him. "Penelope was the save way right before. Both times."

"And yet she's out on campaign," Myrina points out. "While you're at home, away from your wife." Thus he lacked Kreon's excuse.

"My beloved wife insisted on retaking command so Andrea could come home and continue her studies. Someone had to stay here and take care of our children."

"You mean when I'm not taking care of them while you handle affairs of state with my husband. Two men doing the work of one."

"I know. But Kreon insists on tagging along." He scowls in response to Hiero's quip. "By the way, where are Conn and Dawna?"

"They're very fast. Sometimes too fast for me at this point. You know how they get when they play." Hiero's two year-old son runs into the hall from the back end of the hall. He is being chased by his three year-old sister. When they're six feet behind and ten feet to the left of their father, she tackles him, gets on top, takes out a tiny wooden nub, and pokes it towards her kid brother's chest.

"I staked you! I staked you!," she exclaims.

"Dawna, what did I tell you about hurting your brother?" She gets off him and stands up.

"I'm not hurting him. We're playing Slayer." Conn rolls over and stands up.

"I wanna play Champion!," he declares.

"Who's the damsel?"

"You!" Dawna glares down at her little brother.

"I'm too big and strong to be your damsel. Go find a baby to save."

"How 'bout you both play Champion with me," Hiero playfully suggests as he runs over and picks up Conn in his left arm and Dawna in his right. They both scream and laugh.

Kreon smiles and puts his left hand on Myrina's belly and his right arm around her lower back. Standing to his right, she puts his left arm around his shoulders. "That'll be us, soon."

"Not unless I'm having twins." He looks up at her with his seductive smile and tender doe eyes. "Don't get you're hopes up. It's gonna be a long time before I let you do this to me again." Hiero had warned him about the mood swings. Kreon knew better than to try to empathize with his spouse's ordeal. He used to laugh when his sister told him about how this nearly caused her to break Hiero's nose. Now that tale seems a lot less funny and a lot more cautionary. Little Conn climbs up onto the table and crawls over to Kreon.

"Uncle Keon! Uncle Keon!," he warbles. Kreon holds him up.

"How's my favorite nephew doing?" As he plays with the boy, a messenger runs into the hall. Myrina walks up to him.

"Send him in," she orders, causing the young man to rush back out the front door. She walks over to the table.

"Send who in?," he husband asks.

"That guy who's been going around telling people he knew Angel."

"Another one," Hiero scoffs.

"How do we handle this kook?," Kreon asks.

"Same way we took care of the others." They both chuckle, having encountered more than a few cranks over the past few years. Groo enters and slowly walks towards them.

"Big guy!," Conn exclaims. He's never seen a man over six feet tall.

"That's right," Hiero replies. "You're my big guy."

"No," Conn insists, slowly shaking his head. "Big guy!," he repeats, pointing his little arm at the approaching man, who stops ten feet in front of them.

"Name," Hiero casually orders, almost bored.

"I am the Groosalug."

"Did Angel mention a Groosalug?," Kreon asks Hiero.

"I don't believe he did."

"Please explain how you met Angel and the extent of your relationship with him," Kreon requests with the listless monotone of a DMV employee. It had become all-too-common for someone with an active imagination who was desperate for attention to place themselves in stories from Buffy's world and to try to convince others that they had personally known these legendary figures. A number of these pseudo-characters had created quite a following before being thoroughly debunked by the authorities. The curiosity about their marvelous heroes was so insatiable that many people were eager to listen to anybody who claimed to have inside information.

"I met Angel and his Companions in Pylea. Cordelia's arrival fulfilled a prophecy, allowing me to become king. Angel led the campaign to liberate my human subjects from their demon enslavers. After Angel and his Companions departed, I attempted to unite humans and demons and reconstruct their society. In this, I was not entirely successful. A revolution forced me to abdicate, and I came to Earth to be with my Princess, Cordelia.

"You two were married?," Kreon asks.

"No. But we made sex together."

Hiero thinks this over. "Angel mentioned the return of an old boyfriend. Was this after Connor's birth?"

"Connor!, Connor!," Conn screams with joy upon hearing the name of his namesake.

"He was an infant, much younger than this one, when I arrived. Then he disappeared. Then he reappeared, older. Nearly your age." Kreon is now twenty three. Hiero twenty eight.

"Did you know Spike?," Kreon asks.

"I fought in battle with him once. Buffy as well. It was Spike's idea that I come here. But Anya was the one who sent me."

"You met Anya?," Hiero asks with a smile. "She's very beautiful. And smart."

"Yes. She was once a champion for wronged women. Before she met the Xander, who is without his left hand."

"Missing a hand," Myrina notes. When Anya returned with an update four days (eight months) ago, she told them this. It was one of the pieces of information they had the priests keep from the general public in order to smoke out frauds. "How did he lose it?"

"Saving a Potential Slayer from a Titan named Seth. He is dead. But his sister, Nina, still wreaks havoc. In my world, her name is Na-an."

"Okay, we've heard enough," Hiero dismissively concludes. He and Kreon place the children on the floor. They run over to Aunt Myrina while the two men huddle together in the corner to discuss the matter.

"The others all talked too much," Kreon points out. "He doesn't. Frauds like to talk a lot. And he knew that thing about the Scooby." They assume that in Buffy's world this is the word for "Companion."

"Maybe he has an inside connection." Hiero's always the most skeptical about those claiming to know his hero Angel, while Kreon's the same way about those claiming to know Spike. "As for the slow talk, maybe he knows the less he says, the less likely he is to give himself away."

"And what's wrong with his eyes?"

"Looks to me like he slipped something into his wine."

"No wonder he thinks he's a demigod."

"It's been known to happen."

"So what do we do?"

"Follow my lead," Hiero suggests. They walk up to Groo, whom the children seem quite fascinated by. "You look like a warrior."

"I was born a warrior."

"Are you, by chance, a champion?"

"I was born a champion." Hiero smiles. Angel said nothing about a second champion. And he knows a champion needs to have super powers. "It's time for the test."

"Test?," Groo asks, slightly alarmed, figuring this involves some sort of agonizing ordeals.

"Yes. The test," Kreon adds with a smile. Right then, Groo hears a female yell coming from a room behind the hall and the sound of a person slamming into the ground. He rushes towards the noises of distress.

"Wait!," Hiero cautions, unable to stop Groo. Behind the hall is a training room, where Andrea is taking on four much larger male opponents. The first one tried a left jab and right hook, both of which she blocked before pushing the man back. He took a dagger in his right hand and charged her. She yelled, dodged to her right to avoid the blade at the last instant, grabbed his right arm and flipped him through the air. Groo heard his back slam into the wooden floor. A Second attacker tries a left hook kick, which she ducks, then a right roundhouse kick. She grabs his right foot, pulls it up and watches him fall down. He vaults back to his feet, only have Andrea leap at him and kick him in the chest with her right foot, knocking him into the wall. She blocks a left cross, lands a left jab to his nose, grabs his head and flips him over her shoulder. As his butt slams into the floor, she turns to take on a club-wielding opponent. She ducks a swing for her head and leaps above a swing for her knees, landing a right kick to his chin. When he swings again, she grabs the club with both hands and knees him in the groin. As the poor fellow groans, she takes hold of the club and whacks him twice on the back of his head, knocking him down.

She drops the bat and turns right to face her final opponent, who wields a wooden staff with both hands. She keeps her distance at first, showing respect for the weapon's reach. When he swings high, she ducks down, steps in and sweeps his legs. When he gets up, she lands a quick right roundhouse kick to his face, then charges in while he's off-balance, grabbing the staff with both hands and pushing him into the wall. He finally uses his superior strength to push her back. She retreats as he returns to the attack. When he swings, she grabs one side of the staff and spins around, using his momentum to spin her attacker around and send him towards the other wall. As he drifts away, she holds onto the staff and he lets go. She spins it in her right hand, inviting his next move. When he steps forward, she takes the weapon in both hands, smacks his right knee, shoves the butt end into his throat, spins around and strikes the back of his head, then forces the butt end into his spine, knocking him flat on his face. She drops the staff and smiles as bruised men limp to their feet. Groo is astounded.

"A Slayer!," he exclaims as he walks over to the buff, blonde seventeen year-old girl with the blonde pony tail who's thrashed these strapping young warriors. Her jaw drops.

"That is so cute! That's the most adorable thing anyone's ever said to me. You are so adorable! You are so cool. Who are you?"

"I am the Groosalug."

Kreon walks over to his sister. "He claims to know Angel. Says he's from the Higher World."

"Did you know Spike?"

"Not well." Andrea loses interest in the newcomer.

"You guys can hit the baths," Andrea says to her dejected workout partners. "Don't worry. You're gettin' better. I mean that." They look at her and smile weakly as they limp out a side door. "What me to handle him?"

"I think we can take care of that," Hiero responds. He and Kreon each take a wooden staff and circle round Groo.

"I sense you are thinking of attacking me."

"You sense right," Kreon responds.

"We just want to test your champion-ness," Hiero explains.

"But I do not want to hurt you."

"Oh, we're not worried about that." The two men charge and strike Groo. He shows not reaction, grabs each of them and tosses them fifteen feet back. Standing in the corner with her arms folded in front of her, a resting Andrea laughs. The guys steady themselves and go back in. Kreon sends the butt of his staff for Groo's windpipe. He grabs it and throws Kreon forward so that he knocks down Hiero. The get up, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Kreon pokes Groo in the sternum. Hiero jams him in the diaphragm. Nothing. Hiero nails him again. Kreon smashes Groo upside the head, breaking his staff in two. The two men look at each other, terrified. "Relax," Hiero assures Kreon as they back up. "It's because of whatever he put in his wine." Groo just stands there, refusing to pursue the surprisingly rude men he wanted to befriend.

"How do I pass this test?"

"By beating them up," Andrea answers, upsetting her brother and brother-in-law. He shrugs and approaches his opponents.

"A test is a test." Kreon lands a right hook to Groo's face and Hiero a right uppercut to his chin. Nothing. Groo puts his hands to their chest and pushes them into a wall, holding them there and squeezing their ribcages in the process. They both grimace and moan.

"Tap if you concede," he tells them, unwilling to strike these ordinary men and risk serious injury. They shake their heads out of pride and then kick Groo away. When they charge, he tosses Hiero into the wall to his left and Kreon into the wall to his right, near the door to the great hall. Myrina enters and sees her husband lying on his back after tumbling five feet straight down to the ground.

"I said you were going soft."

"You don't understand," he groans as he stands up.

"This guy's real," Hiero explains as he struggles to his feet. Groo had thrown them far harder than they'd ever been thrown before.

"Even so, I'm glad you're children didn't have to witness this," she replies to Hiero.

"That's for sure," a laughing Andrea adds. She loved the show Groo put on for her. "So do I really remind you of a real, live Slayer?," she asks.

"The ones I have seen." She smiles ear-to-ear. "Where do YOU get your power."

"Practice," the beaming young warriorette replies. "Helps having this guy as a big brother and this guy's wife as a big sister." Kreon appreciates the compliment, especially after the drubbing he just took.

"It was a, good fight," Kreon offers, patting Groo on the back.

"Yes. Good fight," Hiero adds. "Could you leave us for a moment?" Groo goes back into the hall to get gaped at by the curious children toddlers while Kreon, Hiero, Andrea and Myrina discuss what to do with him.

"A real live superhero," Andrea begins.

"This could create a problem," Kreon points out. Hiero nods. It's a political danger to have anyone who could claim to be closer to Angel or Spike around them. Especially someone who's stronger.

"If he wants trouble, why'd he come to you?," Andrea asks.

"I don't think he's very crafty," Myrina concludes.

"You think we can use him?," Kreon wonders.

"He said he was a failed leader. He hasn't used his powers to raise an army. I think he wants to be used."

"But he said he was a champion," Hiero reminds them.

"Maybe not all champions are leaders," Andrea surmises. "Or, maybe some of them are lower-level leaders who need other leaders to work for."

"I say we put him to use, and get him as far away from here as possible," Myrina proposes. She's an even shrewder political operator than her less crafty, less urbane husband. After all, he'd be a lot less successful if he didn't have someone to look out for his interests when he's off at the front.

"Koneg," Andrea suggests. "Panthesilea and her army are locked in that siege. Winter's coming."

"It's a thirty days' march," Kreon reminds her.

"Horse relays along our line of communications could get him there in eight," Hiero counters.

"It's worth a shot," Myrina adds.

"And even if they've already won, there's plenty of other work he can do on our northern frontier," Kreon concedes.

"I say we go give our new friend his marching orders," Hiero concludes. The two of them walk out. Myrina looks at Andrea.

"Men. They always need to think they're in charge."

"That's why I'm never getting married." Myrina looks stunned at Andrea's assertion. "Unless he's as strong and sexy and cool as Spike." Myrina smiles at her fond memories of Spike the Liberator as the two women walk out of the room. "Or Hiero." Myrina appears even more stunned than before. "I'm kidding. Well, mostly."

Buffy and Faith are outside, training the Potentials. The others are downstairs, doing what they can to pass the time.

"You made the evening papers. Or, maybe the morning papers. I'm not sure which. But you made them," Andrew reports to Giles.

"I don't care." Today's paper is meaningless of the world ends tomorrow.

"The Guardian, The Independent, the Daily Mirror all ran basically the same puff piece that we saw on the news yesterday. What's this in the Sun! Ripper Exposed. Best Friend Tells All.' Ripper? What do they call you that?" Giles rushes over to the computer, where Andrew's been doing his online search.

"Ethan Rayne. I should have suspected as much. Was there money involved?"

"It says he received ten thousand pounds for his story."

"How shameful," Anya declares. "Someone of your reputation should be commanding five times that. Ten thousand is what you get for dishing dirt on a common B-list celebrity."

"This is unbelievable. Every word. Every syllable. It's all lies, right Mister Giles?," Andrew asks.

"I'm not going to waste my time reading such filth," he evasively responds, walking away.

"Did you really take part in a ritualistic killing? Mister Giles? Mister Giles, say it ain't so."

"Killing is such a strong word," Xander offers.

"It implies intent," Willow adds. "An accident, well, that's really nobody's fault."

"I don't believe this," a dejected Andrew announces. "You're telling me the horrible, awful things this man says about you are true?"

"That's right kiddies," Spike jokes. "Rupert was once a real, live human being."

"And a much tougher one than you ever were," Giles casually shoots back, imagining what Ripper would have done to William the Poet.

"Sounds like you were a lot like me," Andrew says to Giles as he reads on. "A wayward young man. Always up to no good. Using magic to make mischief."

"He's got a point, Rupert," Spike say with a smile, knowing how much the comparison must irk Giles.

"Let's see what other articles there were," Willow suggests as she walks over, takes the mouse and clicks back to the search page. "Hey, there's one in Le Monde." Willow clicks to that page.

"But it's in French," Andrew protests. "And I wasn't done with the other one."

"That name looks familiar. Giles, isn't that French Watcher who came here named Claude Marcel?"

"Yes he is."

"He wrote something about you."

"And they published it? In Le Monde? That's an actual, serious newspaper. I suppose he wasn't merely bragging when he said he had friends in high places."

"So it's good stuff about you?," Willow asks.

"It should be." Giles walks over to translate the text. "The Rupert I Know," he says, reading the title. Then he quickly scans the three hundred word letter. "I first met Rupert in the summer of 1962. We were both thirteen. I took him tree climbing in the forest behind my parents' cottage in Gascon.' Oh dear."

"Why oh dear?," Willow wonders. Giles reads on, then breathes a sigh of relief.

"Never mind." Fortunately, Claude omitted the part about giving Giles his first joint, which is what he remembers about the encounter. "He thought I spoke very good French for an English boy. Then he mentions something about his wedding, where I was best men, and goes on to, well, heap far more praise on me than I deserve. Claude has quite a way with flattery, when he's not busy pissing everybody off."

"That's a bloody frog for you," Spike opines. "Rude if they don't think you matter, brown-nosing if they do."

"I take it you two didn't exactly hit it off," Xander assumes.

"Claude doesn't suffer fools very well," Giles quips.

Willow walks away from the computer and back over to Xander. "It's good that the Potentials are finally getting out for some fresh air," Willow says to him. "At lunch, Kennedy told me they were beginning to get a little stir crazy."

"I think we all are."

"Look on the bright side. It's our last day here," Anya says with her usual flippancy. "By this time tomorrow, we'll either be homeless or dead."

"Just the sort of positive thinking that made me fall in love with you," Xander jokes.

"Guess this is goodbye," Connor says to Cordelia on the landing just inside the front door.

"Not forever. I hope."

"Won't be the same without you."

"How would you know?," she jokes. "You've hardly been here with me."

"Still gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Connor. Never forget that you're a champion. And that you're father loves you."

"I know. Dawn's always telling me the same two things."

"Now I know who's got the brains in that family," Cordy jokes. Connor laughs. "Take care of yourself." He hugs her. "And take care of your dad." She hugs him for a few seconds.

"Someone's gotta look after him," he kids. She rubs the top of his head, mussing up his hair, before moving on to Fred.

"Does Columbia have math and science requirements?," Fred asks in lieu of the standard sentimental banter.

"I think so."

"If you have any trouble with homework or problem sets, be sure to give me a call." Cordy smiles, a tear welling up in her right eye, and hugs Fred. Gunn's next in line. She doesn't know what to say to him. So he thinks of something first. Gunn's not used to goodbyes, since everyone he's lost has died before having a chance to move on.

"You got out of this town alive. You got out of the Hellmouth alive. How many people can say that?"

"Wouldn't be able to say that if it wasn't for you." They quickly hug.

"Well. Wesley. Wow."

"Four and one-half years together. It's been quite a journey. When I think back to what each of us was like at the start - "

"You've come a long way baby," she quips.

"You too."

"Try not to drool on me this time," she suggests, referring in jest to their last goodbye.

"I had nearly forgotten about that," he sighs in response to the embarrassing memory. They hug, and then she walks out to the courtyard, where Angel's sitting under the shade of the peristyle. He stands up.

"Guess there's nothing more for me to say," he tells her in resignation.

"Angel, it's hard for me too. But it would be even harder to stay. I have to leave because I love you, but we can't have a future together. What I kind life is that? I don't mean to sound selfish or petty - "

"Cordy, that's the last thing you are."

"Since when?," she asks with a grin and raised eyebrows. He pauses.

"I don't want to try to pin down a date, but you know what I mean. You've given me more than I could ever repay you for. You've come within an inch of giving your life more than a few times. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, and I don't yet know how I'll manage without you, but I understand. And I, wish you the best. And, well, also, umm . . . " Cordy shuts Angel up by kissing him. After ten seconds of at first awkward and then affectionate lip-lock, she pulls back.

"I had to do something to shut you up," she says with a slightly embarrassed smile. "After all, I know you're the soft-spoken type who likes to do his talking with a furrowed brow and a meaningful stare. Guess we'll leave it with that." She slowly takes two steps back into the sunlight. They look at each other for a few more seconds before she walks out to her car. Angel sits down and runs his right hand along the vines on the wall. He feels like emotionally he's been through a lot today. But it was just beginning.

Buffy walks into Dawn's room. She's looking in her closet, deciding which clothes to wear. She turns around. "Sorry for not knocking," Buffy offers, unsure how to start the conversation.

"It's okay. Not like I was in the middle of anything embarrassing." She defensively closes the closet, then walks towards her sister. "What's up?"

"When Connor leaves here tonight, I want you go back with him." Dawn takes a little while to ponder the meaning of this surprise offer.

"You're really scared about me. Knowing how much you hate Connor - "

"I don't hate him," Buffy insists.

"Well, you don't like him."

"There's a huge difference."

"You don't like me being with him."

"That's not the issue."

"I know. The issue is you don't think I'm useful."

"I don't think it's the best idea for you to be fighting uber-vamps and a Titan who, thanks to her choice in men, may really have it in for you. Nina can kill with her bare hands in the blink of an eye. I saw what she did to Molly, and to Zora. They were dead before they knew she had touched them. What kind of a sister would I be if I gave her the chance to do the same to you?"

"I'm the one girl she doesn't want to kill. The one she can't kill. Giles said there are rules."

"Yes. Nina can't kill you unless you get in her way. And if you're there fighting with the rest of us, I don't see how you can't be in her way."

"Are you saying the same thing to Xander? Or Anya? What about Andrew?"

"I love you."

"And Xander?"

"He's good with heavy machinery," she weakly offers. "You saw what he did yesterday. And . . . he said no."

"Did he say why?"

"Because everyone he cares about will be there."

"And what if Connor stays?"

"That's not going to happen."

"You think they're coming all this way just to say hello and go home?"

"Why they're coming doesn't matter. They're not staying."

"And what about me? Does it matter what I want?"

"I thought you wanted to be with Connor."

"I also want to be with my family. Are you trying to make me choose one or the other?"

"You get those vision thingys that help Angel."

"So I'm useful to them, but not to you?"

"Dawn, I'm trying to protect you."

"I know. That's what you've always done. Because you don't think I can protect myself."

"We're not talking about regular vampires and demons."

"And you won't let me near them. Why would you let me near anything scarier?" Buffy grips Dawn's shoulders.

"This isn't the time for trying to prove yourself."

"Then when is?"

"You already have."

"When? When? Because I don't remember you ever deciding to treat me like I was responsible and capable. I just remember you ignoring me or telling me to go hide. Like now."

"That's not fair. You know that's not fair. And you know it's not true."

"Can we do this later?"

"When? After you're dead?"

"It's my town, too. And if you can't understand why it's my fight, too, then there's just no point to this. We'll end up arguing over who's to fault it is, and there's no winners if it comes to that. We'll both feel angry and lousy and forget why we love each other. So let's, you know, agree to disagree, and leave it at that."

"I don't want to lose you. It's that simple. I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want you to lose me, either. See, we agree about something." Buffy closes her eyes, tilts her head up and looks very pained.

"We'll talk about this later."

"If you insist. By the way, if you're thinking of forcing me to do what you want because you think, after it's all over, I'll thank you for it, I won't." Dawn folds her arms and gives Buffy one of her defiant stares. She shakes her head, turns around and leaves the room. Perhaps Dawn will feel different after she's seen Connor.

Connor runs into the office, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "Ready to go?" They just stare at him, their jaws slightly ajar with shock and dismay. Angel slowly cringes, as if physically repelled by his son. "What? What!" Connor hates it when they look at him as if he's a freak and something's wrong with him.

"Your clothes," Angel responds, referring to the black leather pants and blue silk button-down shirt Connor's wearing. "They're, they're . . . where did you get them?"

"I didn't steal them, if that's what you think."

"No. Oh no. That's not the . . . issue. You said Spike gave you the pants."

"Naw, they were too baggy. I gave 'em to Groo."

"They fit him?," Angel asks, surprised.

"Yeah. Guess they were also really baggy on Spike."

"That would make these pants . . . tighter," Lorne meekly concludes, sharing Angel's discomfort.

"I bought these clothes."

"Where did you get the money?," Angel asks.

"You think I don't know how to get money? How do you think I fed myself after you kicked me out?"

"I had good reasons for doing that," Angel maintains, thinking that Connor's trying to play the victim.

"Didn't say you didn't. I just don't get why you're all up in my face about these threads. You never asked how I got any of my other clothes." There's silence. No one wants to say "you're dressed as if you're evil," fearing that might sound ridiculous. "I just thought I should wear something nice for Dawn," Connor finally offers, breaking the silence, and further curdling everyone's stomachs. "So are we goin' or not?"

"Yes," Angel finally responds after five seconds.

"I'll go bring the car around," Gunn adds, quickly walking out of the room. He is joined by Fred and Wes, who try not to look at Connor as they walk by him on their way out. Connor leans against the wall and hums the verse melody from Nirvana's "Serve The Servants." They are one of the groups Elijah's introduced him to, and Connor happens to identify with the lyrics to that particular song. He has a placid grin on his face as he leans up his head and stares at the ceiling. Lorne turns to Angel.

"You don't wanna know." Connor's thinking about Dawn in a way that reminds Lorne how his gift can be a curse.

"You can go join the others," Angel suggests. Connor leaves the room. Angel, who's standing to Lorne's left, puts his right hand on Lorne's left shoulder. "Good luck holding down the fort."

"Your violence-free sanctuary is safe in my hands," Lorne assures him. The Furies' spell means that Angel needn't worry about any attacks. Angel takes a few steps towards the door, then looks back at Lorne one more time. Lorne shakes his head.

"You really don't wanna know."

Giles gets off the phone with Claude Marcel. "Thanking him for the nice article?," Willow asks.

"Yes. But mostly I was discussing our looming battle."

"Did he have any advice we hadn't thought of?" Buffy and Faith are back outside with the Potentials, doing a little more training but mostly walking and talking about past victories, trying to boost their spirits.

"He doesn't think Faith needs to die in order to counteract Nina's spell. Claude's familiar with the legend, and he theorized that we only needed to cover the stake in Faith's blood.

"Which would weaken her, and also give Nina an opportunity to rip the stake out of my hands if the spell didn't work. Then we're really up a creek without a paddle."

"I explained that to Claude, and he agreed my approach was best. But he still maintained that the proper way to counteract blood magic was with blood."

"You mean Slayer's blood," Spike points out.

"Naturally. But our hope is to capture the sickle as use both weapons against Nina. Claude agreed that the only way to kill her, short of devouring her flesh, would be dismemberment and separating the body parts as much as possible. On the whole, he was optimistic."

"That's because he's not here," Anya reminds Giles.

"Yes, and because he knows we've overcome seemingly insurmountable odds in the past. He said something in French which I think can be loosely translated as You've taken this Hellmouth and made it your bitch.'" He repeats what Claude said verbatim.

"Gosh," Willow responds. "Even that sounds elegant in French."

"That man has a point," Xander happily concedes.

"Actually, the analogy's backwards," Anya begs to differ. "Buffy's kept the Hellmouth closed. If you've turned someone into your bitch, you make them open up." Giles, Xander and Willow are made queasy by this literal interpretation.

"Claude was optimistic enough to talk Council business. He is running the show at moment."

"Frenchy's in charge?," Spike asks.

"He's taken legal control of the endowment and transferred the organization to Paris."

"I don't bloody believe this. Our fight has been more nothing." Not that Spike liked the Council's old guard, but he's chauvinistic enough to regret the loss of a British institution. Even one that long tried to kill him.

"There was nothing left in London. This was the logical thing to do. Claude has a library, offices, a staff. Everything one needs recreate a viable organization."

"But everyone the world over understands English," Spike argues. "How many speak French?"

"All Watchers still have to be fluent in English. And they still have to study at Oxford. Though for only two years, instead of the previous five."

"Do they have any good covens in France?," Willow wonders.

"Yes. There's an excellent one in Breton."

"As excellent as the one in Devon?"

"So far as I know. And Claude tells me there are a few women with remarkable powers who live in seclusion in the Northern Pyrenees."

"It's a national disgrace," Spike reiterates, trying to hit some sort of nationalist chord in Rupert. "French bloody hegemony. What would Wellington say? What would Nelson say?"

"I don't think Lord Nelson cared much for witchcraft," Giles quips.

"Actually, I heard he did," Willow declares to the astonishment of Giles. "I read something somewhere about a certain fortune teller he met in Sicily."

"You don't say?" Willow goes on with the story. Spike gives up and heads into the kitchen for some blood. He has far more pressing problems to worry about.

Gunn drives the van, Fred rides shotgun, Wesley sits on the middle bench behind Gunn, Connor sits behind Fred, and Angel lies down on the back bench, out of direct sunlight. On the floor behind him are an assortment of weapons.

"Explain to me again why we couldn't wait until dusk?," Fred asks, looking back at Angel.

"We couldn't find their bunker in the dark. It'll be hard enough locating it in the light."

"We could have called ahead," Wesley suggests, "and have someone meet us in their own car, to escort us in."

"Then we'd be easy prey to a surprise attack," Angel rationalizes. "In the light, we can see any dangers, and we don't have to worry about these turokh-hans." Actually, Angel left early because he couldn't stand to wait any longer. He sat around for two hours after Cordelia left, and finally decided that was long enough to do nothing. Besides, Buffy could be planning a reconnaissance mission or something else important for that evening, and he wouldn't want to miss out. He's confident that once all of them are there, and once Buffy sees his face, she'll relent and accept their help.

NEXT: The big get-together.


	63. Greetings

Gunn slows down and stops at a police roadblock. "I told you to call ahead," Wesley reminds Angel.

"Cops. Maybe it was a bad idea to put the black guy behind the wheel," Gunn quips. He pulls down his window. "Afternoon officer."

"Didn't you see the signs? Road's closed. Been closed for five days."

"We're friends of Mayor Santos," Wesley offers.

"Then how come she's not here to meet you?"

"Good question," Wesley responds. He can't think of anything to add. "Will you give us a moment?" Gunn looks at Wes, not sure what he's up to. "Back up a bit and pull off the road." Gunn shuts the window and does this.

"You gonna call the Mayor?," Gunn asks Wes.

"I don't have her phone number."

"Then why you givin' orders like you're the one in charge?"

"Someone had to say something." Wesley sighs. "Kelly would have her number. But she's currently out at sea."

"Forget the Mayor," Fred suggests. "Kelly's in the service. She'd know whatever general was in charge here."

"Good thinking," Angel replies. "We don't exactly have many friends in law enforcement. But you three have a few in the army."

"Thanks to our man Lindsey," Gunn points out, to Angel's distress.

"That's it!," Fred exclaims.

"You think Lindsey could help us?," Wesley asks.

"No. Graham. He's in LA. But he was here yesterday. He gave me his cell number."

"Who's Graham?," Angel asks, not having seen him walk into the hotel with Fred that morning.

"Just a friend I spent last night with." Angel's eyes bug out. "He slept on the couch," she explains, mildly annoyed at how the guys act regarding her personal life. "You killed two of his friends when you were evil. I've tried to explain to Graham what a good guy you usually are."

"Would he by any chance happen to know some dip named Riley?"

"You mean Riley Finn? They're best friends." Angel groans and looks up at the ceiling. Fred dials Graham's number. "To be fair, I think he hates Spike even more. And he's never even seen Spike kill anyone. So you are his favorite vampire, in a manner of speaking. Hi. Graham. It's Fred. Look, ahm wonderin' if you could do me a little favor? Me and my friends are tryin' to get into Sunnydale to help out Buffy. Right. A roadblock. Which one? I'm heading west on Segundo, at the intersection with Cementerio. Thanks a lot, Graham. You're a real sweetie." Fred hangs up, then looks at Angel. "Cementerio? Isn't that a bad name for a road in a town like this?"

"Or an apt name," Wes replies.

"We can always get out and sneak in," Connor suggests. "Except, of course, for Angel," he adds with a smirk.

"Just wait for a few minutes. Graham's gonna take care of everything."

"Are you sure you didn't sleep with him?," Angel asks. Fred responds with a withering "How'd you like for me to open the back door and give you some sun?" glare. "Come on, Freddie. It's a joke. You know Cordy would've said it. I was just trying to pick up the slack now that she's gone. Someone has to."

Three miles to the northeast, Kate picks up her phone. "Someone's trying to get in. An outsider? I thought everyone had gotten the message. It's been two days since any curiosity seeker's even tried. Oh. They claim to be friends of the Mayor. Doesn't everybody nowadays. No. Don't waste her time. I'll handle these tourists." Kate puts on a helmet, gets on a police motorcycle (it gives her the most flexibility in this setting) and rides off to send the latest nuisance packing.

"Is this gonna work?," Connor asks impatiently. The waiting's made him jumpy.

"Graham knows every officer here. He'll take care of it."

"Good. Don't wanna keep Dawn waiting."

"They're not even expecting us yet," Angel points out.

"Dawn's great. I think you guys'll really like her. She's really smart. And tough. I mean, she's been through so much."

"We know. You've been talking about her for the last hour," Gunn point out, only moderately exaggerating. Wes and Fred were also sick of Connor's ceaseless encomiums. For Angel, one word from Connor about Dawn was too much.

"Did you like it better when I wasn't nice and never talked to you?," Connor asks with a childish pout.

"I'm sorry," Fred says. "No. Wait. I'm not sorry. You're just tryin' to win cheap pity."

"While we welcome your newly amiable attitude," Wesley begins. "It's simply that, well - "

"You don't hear us talkin' your ear off about our girlfriends," Gunn finishes.

"But Dawn's my soul mate. I'm gonna marry her." This was new, and unsettling, information.

"You're going to what!?," Angel exclaims. He begins to hyperventilate. First Connor imprisons him at the bottom of the ocean. Now he talks of a Summers marriage. One nightmare scenario after another.

"When?," Gunn asks incredulously. He's never actually heard anyone say those four words in that exact order. They sounded so simple. And therefore insane.

"After she finishes college. That's what she says. I'd like to do it as soon as possible, like after high school. But she's always insisting on putting it off until way in the future."

"Angel, why are you hyperventilating?," Fred asks. "Ah mean, I know why. But, why?"

"As a vampire, you don't even need to breathe," Wes points out. "Or is it autonomic? Your neurons were conditioned during your human lifetime. They may tell your muscles to respond to stimuli in ways that make sense for a human, but not a vampire. A sort of neurochemical atavism." Wesley's rambling to take him mind off what Connor's talking about.

"She's even worse when I talking about having kids." Well, that took care of any hopes of putting this subject out of their minds. If Angel wasn't sitting, he would have fainted.

"You're lucky she didn't run away screaming," Fred points out.

"She doesn't like to think about those things. Are all women like that? Ya know, not as big into commitment as guys are?" This only provokes silence. Wesley wonders if Connor's trying to be ironic, then remembers that Connor doesn't know the meaning of the word. But Connor's only speaking from experience. Cordy slept with him and ditched him. Anya slept with him twice, then ditched him. He knows how caught up Gunn and Wes are with Fred, and Angel and Spike with Buffy. Xander's the only guy he knows who's shown any phobia about commitment. Connor's confused by the lack of response. "I don't understand. Isn't that what two people do when they love each other? Get married, then start a family?"

"In theory," Wesley responds. "In the real world, it's never quite that simple." Something all the other adults in the car can agree on. But Connor had been raised by Holtz, for whom it really had been that simple. He, of course, would have said "Get married. Start a family. Do everything you can to protect them from evil monsters."

"Connor, how long have you two known each other?," Angel asks rhetorically, hoping to show Connor how silly he sounds.

"Bout a month."

"Yeah, but how long were you two together?," Fred follows up.

"Four nights, and three days. But we didn't make love the first night." Everyone winces when Connor says those two words. The phone rings.

"Hey Graham. That's great. You're the best. Talk to you later." She hangs up. Gunn drives back the roadblock. A soldier's talking to the cop and waving the car forward. Two other soldiers remove the roadblock. Gunn rolls on into town. Kate arrives seconds later and sees the van driving away. Once again, Angel slips through her fingers. The first thing they see is the sixty foot-tall dome. Its yellow brickwork, now complete, gleams in the sunlight. "Looks like something survived."

"I don't remember that being there," Wesley insists. "Angel, have a look at this."

"I wish I could." Sunlight's coming through the left side of the front windshield. "I can see whatever it is if you drive by so it's on our right." Gunn swerves in that direction. A minute later, they pass it by. "It's definitely new."

"They built that in four days?," Gunn asks.

"And they did it right on top of the Hellmouth," Angel adds.

"How can you tell?," Wesley asks.

"See what's left of City Hall? That dome's right where the high school used to be."

"So you can navigate the wreckage," Gunn notes. "Too bad you can't navigate to that bunker."

"It's to the right," Connor tells them. "I said to the right."

"How the hell do you know that?," Gunn asks.

"No," Angel adds. "It can't be."

"You can smell her?," Fred asks, a little grossed out.

"Turn right," Connor orders. "Keep going . . . past this block . . . past this one too . . . okay, turn left. It's in the middle of that field up there." Connor grins. "She's excited." One hundred yards to the south, Amanda, Madari, Fadila and Ariella are training and goofing around in what's left of Vincente Santos's house, using the wreckage as obstacles to hide behind, leap over and fight around. Madari points out the unfamiliar black van.

"They know right where Buffy is," Amanda points out after Gunn parks. No one's gotten out yet. They're taking out their cells to call Buffy.

"We can't make it back," Madari concludes.

"Let's hide and see what their next move is," Amanda proposes. They crouch behind what's left of the walls, keeping out of sight. "They can't get underground," she whispers. "When they find that out, maybe they'll leave."

"Or just sit and wait for someone to come out so they can kill them," Madari fears. "What if they stay?"

"We wait," Amanda responds. "And we radio Buffy." She pulls out the two-way radios Kelly and Riley gave them because the cell towers are all down. Angel and his friends soon realize this.

"Perfect," Gunn announces. "Now we gotta get out of this town before we can tell them we're here."

"And in the meantime, we try to take 'em out," Ariella brashly proposes.

"What are you talking about?," Madari wonders. "They don't know we're out here. We attack, they will."

"That means we got surprise on our side," Fadila argues. "They're not expecting any trouble. They get hit, they could freak out and leave." Gunn gets out on the driver's side, which faces the girls. Wes and Fred get out on the other side. Amanda's having trouble working the radio, which she's never used before. She can't figure out if she's on the wrong frequency, or if the batteries or dead, or if the other radios inside the bunker are just turned off. They see Wesley behind the van. He opens up the back doors.

"They look human," Amanda points out. "Maybe they're friendly."

"That's not an army vehicle," Fadila adds, arguing the opposite. "All the other friendlies came in jeeps and humvees."

"They're not Bringers," Madari notes.

"The First has guys who look like people working for them," Ariella counters.

"Did Buffy or Giles say anything about visitors today?," Fadila asks.

"I don't think so," Amanda responds. They were outside when Angel called. "But we coulda missed something."

"You can't miss anything down there," Madari says. Wesley looks over the weapons. He pulls out a shotgun, then puts it back. The girls gasp. Then he takes out a giant ax. "Oh boy."

"I think you two were right," Amanda concedes.

"I wish you had that gun with you," Madari says to Ariella.

"I wish we still had bullets," she responds. This, of course, could have led to the tragic irony of Wesley – the one demon fighter who believes in using firearms – getting killed by the one Potential Slayer who agreed with him.

"We have something else," Fadila points out. During one of the breaks during training, she had made a reference to David and Goliath because of their underdog situation, and joked Ariella should get a sling because she's Jewish. Ariella joked Fadila should get one because she's Palestinian, and her people had used the weapon a lot more recently than Ariella's. The night before, when inventorying the weapons, Giles found a couple musty old leather slings that another Watcher had long ago used to hone a Slayer's aim and muscle control. After Buffy and Faith headed inside, they got hold of the slings, to them outside and tried the weapons out for fun. By now, they've had some practice. Ariella stood up, grabbed a stone, whipped her sling several times around, and released. The stone flew three feet above and five feet to the left of Wesley's head.

"Fred, did you see something fly by me just now?"

"No. Why?"

"I think we may be under attack."

"I thought these bad guys liked to do their work up close?," Gunn asks. He stands four feet to Wesley's right, along the side of the van. Fadila flings her stone. It slams into the side of the van one foot to the right of Gunn's head. He flinches, completely taken by surprise, and his adrenaline surges. Connor and Angel can't help but hear the impact from inside.

"I knew Buffy didn't want us to come, but this is a little extreme," Angel nervously jokes.

"That's a girl," Wesley says, pointing at Fadila as she ducks back behind the debris.

"Does that mean they're on our side?," Fred asks.

"It should."

"We're the good guys!," Gunn yells out. Naturally, the Potentials are not too trusting of strangers. Wesley puts his hands up and takes a few steps towards them. Fred and Gunn also put their hands up.

"We come in peace!," Wesley announces.

"We come in peace?," Fred whispers. "What are we, aliens?" The girls are deeply puzzled by this behavior.

"Are they trying to surrender?," Madari asks. Ariella and Fadila look at each other and smile.

"We're good," Fadila says to her.

"It could be a trick," Ariella points out.

"I saw one of the Bringers try to surrender to Connor," Amanda recalls. Just then, Connor leaps out the side door on the passenger's side of the van and runs around back. "Connor!," Amanda exclaims. He looks around, sure that someone said his name. "Connor!!," Amanda yells again. She stands up so he can see her. "It's me! Amanda!" He recognizes her and smiles.

"It's okay. They're with me." Madari, Ariella and Fadila stand up. "Hi Ella!," Connor yells out and waves. She waves back. Wes, Gunn and Fred try to recover from shock of the ambush. Especially Gunn, who came quite close to have his skull bashed open. The four girls run over to meet them.

"They've really trained those girls well," Fred concedes with a mixture of admiration and terror.

"Rupert said they were resourceful," Wesley adds.

"Reminds me of my old crew," Gunn says with a smile. They also knew how to greet suspicious-looking strangers who came to their neighborhood. Connor opens one of the two back doors.

"It's okay dad. That was just the Potentials. They didn't know which side we were on."

"They know now, right?"

"I took care of everything." Angel looks at the back side of the three inch-deep dent made in the metal by Fadila's rock.

"I guess the dealer's gonna charge us extra for that when we bring this back in at the end of the month. Is Buffy with them?"

"No. But they can let us inside."

"Tell me when."

"You thought I was gonna leave you here until sundown?," Connor jokes before closing the door. Angel hopes his son really was only joking. Connor, happy to play leader, introduces the gang to the girls.

"This is Gunn. This is Wes. This is Fred. They work for me." He can feel the heat of their angry stares on the back of his neck. "With me."

"Connor and Rupert have told us wonderful things about all of you," Wesley gushes, trying to make a good impression.

"Faith's said some cool things about you guys," Amanda replies.

"Sorry about your van," Fadila offers.

"Oh that. It's nothing," Wesley responds before getting a good look at the dent. "Actually, it's quite sizeable. She nearly killed you," he says to Gunn, making Fadila feel nervous and Gunn feel a little emasculated.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Gunn replies. "Someone nearly kills me just about every day of the week."

"Same with us," Ariella jokes.

"That's why we attacked you," Madari adds.

"Perfectly understandable," Wes assures them.

"Back when demons were hunting me day and night, I wasn't very trusting either," Fred confesses, causing the girls to think she's making fun of them.

"Can you take us inside?," Connor asks.

"Sure can," Amanda responds. Buffy gave her one of the two remotes that make the entrance rise. She presses it, and the entrance pops six feet up, wowing her guests.

"Damn," Gunn comments. "Buffy went all out."

"Actually, the Mayor did," Amanda explains. "With millions from Washington and Sacramento. Your tax dollars at work."

"Demon fighters can get grant money!," Fred enthuses. "Just like Physics professors. Except without tenure." The demons took care of that. Amanda takes out her card and runs it through the sensor.

"Hold on," Wesley says. He runs over and gets Angel out. Angel runs over with his coat over his head.

"Is that a vampire?," Madari asks.

"He's a good vampire," Fred assures her.

"Oh. That's Angel!," Amanda realizes.

"Who's Angel?," Fadila asks.

"The other vampire with a soul." Gunn and Fred find this characterization quite unbelievable. Angel, who can hear it from thirty feet away, is none-too-pleased.

"You mean Buffy's other ex-boyfriend," Ariella adds. Wes and Angel arrive.

"Hello," Angel says, knowing that it's always awkward meeting people when you have a coat over your head. "I'm Angel. You must be the Potentials." Amanda opens the door. Angel rushes in. His friends fall in single file behind him, followed by the Potentials. This creates a problem, since the people with the keys are farthest from the door. Angel knocks. Xander opens the door, expecting the Potentials.

"What are you doing here? Isn't the sun still out?" Spike, who's sitting on the couch watching television, turns around and sees Angel.

"In polite society, people call ahead," Spike tells him.

"Since when were you ever part of polite society?," Angel asks. The Potentials stand on the stairs, wondering what's going on.

"Do I have to invite you in?," Xander asks.

"Yes you do," Spike responds. "I say you make him wait outside. Your friends are welcome to come on in, thought." Willow and Giles walk over to the door.

"Angel!," Willow announces. "Come on in."

"Aren't you a little early?," Giles asks. Everybody streams in. "By the way, Angel, did you happen to spot four teenage girls outside?"

"Spot them?," Wesley comments. "They nearly took our heads off." The girls walk in.

"Is this true?," Giles asks Amanda.

"We were being vigilant. And Ella and Fadila are getting good with those slings. If Connor's friends were bad guys, those two coulda taken 'em out before they even got close enough to hurt us." Giles looks to Wesley for confirmation.

"I'm afraid she's telling the truth." Except of course if Wesley resorted to firearms. But he knew better than to mention that, preferring not to implant in Rupert's mind the image of Wesley gunning down his girls. By now, everyone's streamed into the living room to get a look at the visitors. Dawn and Connor catch sight of each other.

"Hello lover," Connor says with a grin. Dawn rushes up to him. She's wearing tight black jeans and a loose-fitting long-sleeve gray sweatshirt. A chill goes up Angel's spine. The phrasing, the tone, the attitude, they were identical to Darla's when she used that phrase. Yet more nightmares for him.

Told you he wus like his mum," Spike gleefully says into Angel's right ear. He's too stunned to notice Buffy until she walks up to him and says his name.

"Angel? Angel?"

"Oh. Hi Buffy. You look . . . very nice."

"You look very nice, too." Spike contemptuously mutters a few things to mock their banter as he walks away. Meanwhile, Dawn puts her right hand to Connor's bangs.

"You got a haircut."

"It was getting in my eyes."

"Yeah. Your eyes." They stand there, breathless, staring at each other and smiling. Connor runs his right hand through her hair and down her back. She takes a step away, worrying him. But she's just getting a better look at his clothes.

"Are these new?"

"Yeah. You like?"

Dawn smiles and raises her eyebrows. Connor grins, knowing the answer. She caresses his left cheek with her right palm. "I missed you."

"Hey. That's what I was gonna say," he jokes.

"Guess I took the words right out of you mouth," Dawn replies as she runs her right thumb over his lips. Connor sucks on it for a second before Dawn pulls her thumb back, then moves her hand down his neck, shoulder and arm before taking hold of his left hand. She turns around so she's standing to his left and looks at the room, which contains eighteen other people, reminding her that they are anything but alone.

"There's some people I want you to meet," Connor tells her.

"I don't remember Wesley being so grizzled and sexy," Anya says, to Xander's consternation. "Do you, Willow? Oh, why am I asking you? You're a lesbian. I might as well as Giles," she jokes.

"Please don't," Giles pleads.

"Andrew certainly seems wowed," Anya notes.

"He's very easily wowed," Xander responds.

"So you are the rogue agent with a license to kill," Andrew tells Wesley, who doesn't quite know what to make of this wide-eyed young man.

"Not exactly. I only have a license to send people to their deaths. Are you interested?" He's trying to get Andrew to leave him alone.

"I've currently pledged my life to Buffy. But if and when we defeat the First, I'd be free to work for you. I think you would find me very useful. I happen to know several demon languages." Obviously Andrew can't take a hint.

"You're Andrew."

"You know my name! You've heard of me." He gets very excited.

"Connor said you were a servant. And that you're here because you murdered your best friend and no one else would take you in." Connor heard that interpretation from Dawn.

"It's true. Without Buffy I'd be lost and adrift. But would you not have shared the same fate had Angel not taken YOU in?" He'd done his homework. "Yes Wesley, we are not so different after all." Naturally, this galls Wesley severely.

"I never murdered anyone. I never chose to make my living as a criminal. And, with Angel, I've always earned my keep."

"Yeah, well, okay, but, well, you're missing the forest for the trees. Or is it the trees for the forest? Either way, you're missing the big picture." Wesley turns around and walks over to the Potentials.

"You don't need to be jealous," Anya says to Xander.

"Jealous? Of who?"

"Wesley."

"Oh that's a big bouncy ball of ridiculousness."

"It's only natural and predictable that you would deny it."

"I am not jealous. Certainly not of Wesley."

"Yet my noticing him made you upset."

"Because it wasn't dignified. You shouldn't fawn over people like that." Xander drops his jaw and stares at Fred, who's walking straight towards him.

"You must be Xander."

"Uh-huh," he replies, after a few seconds.

"Willow's told me a lot about you."

"I hope most of it was good."

"Don't be modest."

"If you insist," he quips.

"Saving the world with words. Standing up to a friend who's Hell-bent on vengeance and destruction. Sometimes I wish I had a friend like you." The friend remark sends Xander back to Earth. But he takes the tainted compliment in stride.

"Well, I hope you've never been on the path to world destruction."

"Not yet," she jokes back. "Course, I'm somewhat new to all this stuff." She takes Xander's left hand in both her hands.

"This is the one you lost. That's so sad."

"At least it was for a good cause." She looks up at his face and smiles.

"You are so brave. Willow told me you were brave, but I guess bravery's one of those things ya gotta see up close to appreciate."

"Buffy said you were kicked out of the Council," Rona tells Wesley. Not exactly the way he would have wanted to start this conversation.

"Yes. I was let go."

"Why?," Amanda asks.

"Circumstances. Complex circumstances. But I'd rather not dwell on the past. Much has changed in the last four years."

"I know," Kennedy responds. "Willow's says you're no longer a quivering coward. Faith too."

"Well then. I suppose that could qualify as a compliment."

"So, are you, like, Mister Giles's protege?," Fadila asks.

Wesley gulps. "Is that what Rupert told you?"

"No. I just figured cause you're, you know, younger, and you have his intense stare and his I've slept in these clothes and didn't shave this morning but I'm not a slob, I've just been busy with some really important stuff' look." Wesley takes a moment to respond. Giles said Amanda was the talkative one.

"I didn't know that was a look," he tells Fadila.

"So what do you guys do in LA?," Ariella asks. "Do you just go around saving people from monsters, or is there also bigger, more important stuff?" He finds the question mildly insulting. Though he assumes Ella's merely reflecting the bias of the Sunnydale people around her.

"This past year alone, we've battled a demon made of stone, dealt with complete darkness, and fended off the nefarious meddlings of various Higher Beings."

"So you have or your haven't stopped an apocalypse?," Kennedy asks.

"More than one, I suspect."

"Suspect?"

"You can never that certain that you've saved the world unless you fail and the world is ended. That's the paradox of trying to avert an apocalypse. You can never be sure what you are averting. The counterintuitive hypothesis cannot apply." He wonders if that last sentence was over their heads.

"It's not your fault if you haven't," Madari assures him, not intending to sound patronizing. "There's only one Hellmouth."

"Actually, there's a second active one in Cleveland. And at least three other possible dormant Hellmouths."

"Giles said something like that once," Kennedy reports. "He said Hellmouths were like volcanoes, and only one of them can erupt at any one time."

"Still, there's none in LA," Madari notes, finishing her previous thought.

"But there are plenty of dimensional portals. Demons from other worlds enter the city on a regular basis."

"So it's like a Men in Black thing," Rona hypothesizes. "You guys gotta keep tabs on all the new demons, figure out which ones are friendly, and kill the ones that aren't."

"I suppose," Wesley responds, not quite enamored with the analogy. "Except we have far fewer resources and much more primitive weaponry."

"Saving the world on the cheap. Just like us," Kennedy concludes. "Except you get paid."

"Connor says Angel's place is like twenty times bigger than Buffy's was," Amanda reports.

"We only use a small portion of that space for our offices. Still, it is reasonably spacious. As a vampire, Angel is forced to spend much of his time indoors."

"I thought vampires lived underground," Ariella says. "Like Spike."

"Some vampires are more cultured and sophisticated than others." Wesley relishes the chance to extoll Angel and demean Spike.

"And some are so boring and shallow that they have to impress others with their possessions," Spike says. Wesley glances back to see Spike behind him. "You must be the defrocked Watcher. They so that those who can't do, watch. What about those who can't even watch?" Wes turns around and stares Spike down. They stand there, toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose. The girls conclude that it's some English thing and move on.

"You know all about failure, don't you William?," Wesley taunts back.

"You mean how I failed to earn my soul back? Nope, I did that. But big bloody deal. That sort of thing happens all the time. Your boss has done it on several occasions. No, actually, he never has."

"That would explain why your followers are far more numerous and loyal than Angel's," Wesley shoots back.

"Do you always hide behind him?"

"Do you see me hiding right now, William?"

"Since you were twelve!," Rona says to Gunn in astonishment.

"I didn't get real good at it 'till I was fifteen."

"When did you start running your own gang?," Fadila asks before realizing she might have used the wrong word. "Sorry. Posse."

"Crew."

"Yeah. Crew."

"Sixteen."

"Younger than me," Kennedy realizes.

"And you don't even have super powers," Amanda notes. "You don't, do you?"

"There've been times when I wish I did."

"So you've been fighting vamps even longer than Buffy," Rona realizes. "You're the most experienced person here." Gunn's never looked at it that way. He likes how this girl thinks.

"I don't like to throw labels like most experienced' around," he replies modestly. "All that matters is what you can do for someone right now. The demon you're fighting doesn't give a damn how many demons you've killed in the past."

"How come you're working for Angel?," Rona asks.

"You ran your own crew when you were a lot less experienced," Ariella adds.

"Angel should work for you, the way Spike works for Buffy," Rona theorizes. "And Wesley's like Giles. Fred's like Willow. They're supporting players. You should be the leader."

"Plus, you're human," Fadila adds. "Leader's gotta be human." Gunn's blown away by their interpretation of his situation. He thought Rona was saying these things because, as a sister, she knows how demeaning it can be to get type-cast as a sidekick. But it's not only her. In part, the Potentials are struck by the idea of a demon fighter without super powers whose primary job is fighting, not research or magic. To them, he's one of a kind, more special than Buffy or Faith.

"It's a partnership. We share the danger, the responsibility, the wealth. Not that there's a lotta wealth. I had my own crew, Wesley had his own agency. But we can do more together."

"You're like an all-star team, then," Amanda suggests.

"I like that," Gunn responds with smile. "Have you girls talked to Angel?" He'd love to see what Angel made of their wacky theories. But right now Angel's with Buffy.

"It's a nice place you have here," he tells her. It's awkward to be reunited amongst so many other people.

"Compliments to the Mayor."

"Mayor Santos. Does she have a brother named Vince?"

"Yeah. He's head of schools. How do you know him?"

"He was my landlord. Owns the basement apartment I used to live in. It's not like I knew him. I just mailed him a check every month. But he seemed pretty well-connected." Whistler came to Vince, hoping Vince could do him a favor and get him a place that would be appropriate for someone with Angel's needs. Whistler referred to Vince as if he had connections to the Powers. This was around the same time Vince got Giles his librarian job, something Angel doesn't know about.

"When you're the only powerful family on a Hellmouth who works for the good guys, you're going to be in demand. You want to see the rest of this place?"

"Actually, I would like to go somewhere a little less crowded."

"Over there's the dining room and the kitchen. We have some blood, if you want. Kelly brought it over. It's not hers, of course." Angel doesn't appreciate the joke, considering how hard Angelus worked (in vain) to taste her blood.

"I'm okay."

"Through that door is the other half of the bunker, where all the bedrooms are. Except for Faith's, and mine, which is right there. You want to see?"

"Your bedroom?" Angel gets nervous. "That's okay." Buffy also get nervous.

"Yeah. Good call. What do we need a bed for? While these two try to keep the sparks from starting a fire, Fred discusses String Theory with Giles, Anya talks relationships with Wesley, and Gunn chats with Xander about weapon design.


	64. Second Opinions

"A truck-mounted stake shooter that looks like a Gatling Gun," Xander comments. "You'll have to show me that sometime. I'd be happy to show you my gas-powered catapult, if you're interested."

"Definitely interested. Only problem I have with that is the noise. The engine's gonna give the vamps a big ol' heads-up."

"It was designed as a defensive weapon. To protect against hordes of charging enemies."

"Different toys for different situations. Still pretty tight. How many days you say it took you to build?"

"Four. Five to get the aiming mechanism working."

"Twenty shots a minute?"

"Once you get going, all you have to do is pull the lever with your right hand and squeeze the trigger with your left."

"I wonder if you could put in an electric motor. Ya know, to cut down on noise."

"I suppose. The problem is, right now it's set up so the engine runs all the time. To conserve power, with an electric you'd only want the engine to run when you're actually loading. I think I could retrofit it to do that."

"I'm sure it's light enough to mount on a flatbed. But you'd wanna make the aiming more precise. It's a small target when you're trying to dust vamps."

"That part I spent the least time on. I just slapped together the simplest possible system. But if I had to time to tinker – "

"If we had time." Xander smiles at this proposal.

"Of course. If WE had time."

"Are all Watchers this knowledgeable about advanced theoretical physics?," Fred asks Giles.

"It's certainly not part of the training."

"So you've picked up what you know in your spare time?"

"I've found it has certain practical applications to my work. For instance, about few six years ago, Buffy fought a girl who had become invisible."

"The one nobody paid attention to who took it out on Cordy. She told me 'bout that. It's hard to imagine that Cordelia was once so insensitive to the sufferings of others." Giles fights the urge to laugh.

"It is? How long have you know her?"

"About two years."

"Ah. That would explain it. I suppose." It's still hard for him (or anyone else in Sunnydale) to imagine Cordy growing that much. "Back to the invisible girl. My explanation for how this could happen was based on certain aspects of quantum theory." From across the room, Wesley sees Fred getting friendly with Giles and Gunn pal-ing it up with Xander. Both disturbing developments. Fred a little more-so. Anya, who is talking to Wesley, notices his distraction.

"You love her. Faith noticed. Willow didn't pick up on that. Honestly, I think she kinda held out hope that Fred was on her team. You always like to think the attractive ones swing the same way you do." Willow and Fred? That got Wesley's attention.

"What are you basing that on, other than a fertile, yet slightly rancid, imagination?"

"More than a millennia of people-watching. The same thing that lets me know you are rabidly in love with Fred."

"Can love be rabid?"

"Yes. Sometimes literally. Hopefully not in this case. She's attracted to you, but she sees you as a friend. Probably because you're both bookworms. It's the whole misconception that people should find someone different who compliments them. I don't know how many times I've seen that lead to disaster."

"Is this what you're best at? Pseudo-insight?" Anya recognizes Wesley's gibes are more playful than malicious.

"She'll realize how right you are for her after she's exhausted all other options. That's how these things always work. Also, having suffered the trauma of enslavement, she feels a need to attach herself to men she thinks can protect her. I assume she went through the predictable Angel phase before learning of his particular complications. You're not a protector. You used to be a weenie. Now, you're kind of scary. Either way, you lack the come to daddy' appeal of a square-jawed hero like Angel."

"Come to daddy?"

"I know. It's unsettling. Everyone talks about Oedipal complexes. But women are a lot more likely to sleep with their father than men are with their mother. Metaphorically."

"I should hope so."

"So how do you like working for a bleeding heart?"

"Pardon?"

"Angel's a big, huge bleeding heart. Ironic, considering how his real heart's shriveled and dried-up. He's got a total Bobby Kennedy complex: Most people see the world as it is and ask why. I see the world as it should be and as why not.' I'm guessing he can tell you exactly where he was when he heard Bobby had been shot."

"You see Angel as a Kennedy aficionado? There is the Irish thing."

"Not the whole clan. Angel's just a Bobby worshipper. Angelus probably worships a different Kennedy. Bobby like to use heroic metaphors about slaying dragons and noble quests. Angel would've eaten it up."

"Were you a fan of his?"

"No, no, no. I'm the last person who'll fall for idealism."

"Then how come you know so much?"

"I was alive then. And, working in Los Angeles. For Lew Wasserman at MCA."

"Very funny."

"I'm serious. Lew had a deal with DeHofren. The man took payback very seriously. When he told someone you'll never work on this town again,' he wanted to make damn sure that's what happened. I remember Bobby Kennedy because Warren Beatty worshipped him."

"You knew Warren Beatty?"

"Back when he was hot. God, if only someone could have given him eternal youth." She sighs.

"Was he one of your vengeance targets?"

"That's what everybody always assumes. But it's wrong. Warren had a ton of girlfriends. But none of them were ever mad at him after they broke up. His exes had nothing but good things to say about him. Including me."

"You dated?"

"Dated. Slept together. Our relationship was mostly sex. I was working for two very demanding bosses, and I didn't have a lot of free time for boring dinners and pointless small talk."

"Okay. I'll play along."

"You think I'm making this up? Go ask him yourself."

"Did he know you were a Vengeance Demon?"

"Oh Lord no. Which is probably why I haven't kept in touch. How would I explain looking exactly like I did thirty five years ago?"

"Really good plastic surgeon?"

"Wouldn't want to get his hopes up."

"What did he think you were?"

"Vice-President of Marketing, or something like that. He figured I was pretty high up in the organization, considering how much face time I had with Lew. Even ran movie ideas by me. I remember one time when he was all excited about making an homage to the French New Wave. Cutting-edge, avant-garde. The class consciousness of bank robbers during the Depression." Anya sighs and rolls her eyes. "Put someone behind a camera and he thinks he's an artist. I told Warren to forget about all this artsy-fartsy stuff. It never sells. Just make sure it has lots of blood and lots of money. That's what people like."

Wesley thinks about this. "Bonny and Clyde!"

"Oh right. That's what it was."

"You gave him the idea for the groundbreaking graphic violence?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. But I did nix the love triangle that was in the first draft. Originally, Clyde and his protege fight over Bonnie. There was even a threesome in the script. Who wants to see that? Especially when it's two men. Also, Clyde was impotent. Which was why the younger guy got to get it on with Bonnie. I convinced Warren that the audience would never respect an impotent male lead, even a devastatingly handsome one." For Wesley, the completed the Beatty-Angel cycle in a most unsettling way. Evidently, Anya missed the unintentional meaning of her last sentence.

"So that's Buffy," Fred says to Gunn.

"I thought she'd be taller," he responds.

"She gets that a lot," Willow reports. For Gunn and Fred, Buffy had been a quasi-legendary figure who hovered unseen over Angel, and therefore over them. Her death sent him across the sea for months. Who knows what effect her presence in Los Angeles would have had.

"She's so petite. Yet she's got Angel in the palm of her hand," Fred notes. "Like Alexander the Great in drag." Willow and Xander gulp at this notion.

"What did he look like?," Xander asks.

"I'm not sure," Willow replies. "But I heard on television the other day that Colin Farrell's playing him in the movie."

"Ain't he the guy Angelus beat up because he thought he was copying him?," Gunn asks.

"That's what Cordy said," Fred responds. Xander and Willow are hopelessly confused. "What I meant was that Alexander was only five foot two. About the same height as Buffy. And he was also this super-warrior everyone thought was invincible. That's all I meant."

"Now I have this image in my head of Colin Farrell wearing a blonde wig," Xander sheepishly confesses.

"I can't be held responsible for your twisted mind," Fred jokes.

"You have to be careful with what you tell him," Willow says as an aside to Fred. "He's like a child who bounces off the walls if you feed him too much sugar." They both giggle.

"I think they're having a bad influence on each other," Xander whispers to Gunn.

"Bad things can happen when you get too much brains into too little space," he responds, subconsciously knocking Wesley.

"So are you the one who taught Wesley how to fight?," Xander asks Gunn, delighting Charles. "When he worked here, Wesley put the nancy in nancy boy."

"I'm not sure how he learned to fight. Ain't like I trained him or nothing."

"Maybe you just taught by example." Gunn thinks he's made a new friend.

In order to take their minds off each other, Angel and Buffy briefly split up. Angel walks slowly by Spike, whose glaring eyes follow him. They say nothing to each other. Spike's mostly kept to himself. Now that Wesley and Gunn are through getting quizzed by the Potentials, Angel decides to take a shot with them. Buffy walks over to Fred and Gunn. "So. How do you like our little town? It's too bad I couldn't show you it back when it actually existed."

"It's a lovely spot," Fred offers. "If it wasn't for the Hellmouth, of course."

"There had to something to make people move here in spite of the demons."

"Well, there's you," Gunn comments, making Buffy happy. "I know what can happen to a neighborhood when the vamps get the upper hand."

"It's not me. It's the power," she modestly insists. "Take that away, and I'd be running to you for protection."

"You used to live in LA, right?," Gunn asks.

"Sherman Oaks, actually."

"The suburbs. They got any vamps out there?"

"Oh yeah. That's where I started slaying. Until I was expelled for burning down the gym because it was full of vampires." Gunn smiles. He didn't take Buffy for a delinquent. This was a pleasant surprise.

"Wish I had a chance to do that. Better than just dropping out." Having bonded with Gunn, Buffy tries to win over Fred.

"I came back to LA for the next two summers. The last time I lived there, I was sucked into a demon dimension and turned into a slave."

"You were?," Fred asks, excited by the news. "For how long?"

"One night and one day. Of course, it felt a lot longer." Fred's excitement turned to outrage.

"One day. One measly day. You poor baby. How did you ever survive? A whole day. That must have changed the course of your life forever." Actually, it had. "I'm sorry. I don't mean nothin' by it, but . . . one day!! One day? Do you know how many days I was a slave cow? Neither do I. I stopped counting after one thousand."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset me? Please. Five years in a demon dimension. Now that upset me." Fred takes a few seconds to calm down. "I apologize. It's like, it's like, how would you feel if I told you that I understood what it was like to be dead and buried because I was unconscious for a couple hours?" Buffy gets it. Fred had belittled her suffering, her "trip to Hell," and she had a point.

"I understand where you're coming from. Guess there are some things where you shouldn't try to relate."

"I didn't mean to blow up. It's still kind of a raw subject with me."

"Of course it is. If had gone what you've gone through, I probably would have punched me out for what I said."

"That's okay," Fred responds with a smile.

"I didn't mean it as a suggestion," Buffy jokes.

"I don't get why they'd set up the spell so it could be broken," Amanda says to Angel. "Couldn't they have done it so you'd never be happy, no matter what you did?"

"That seems fairer," Rona adds.

"I think it would be a lot worse," Fadila argues. "You do things that should make you happy, but they don't. Like being able to eat ice cream but not taste its sweetness. Except much worse, I imagine. I wouldn't know. But wouldn't miserable sex be worse than no sex at all? Especially if you love the person."

"Think of the guilt," Ariella comments.

"The Gypsies are from up north," Madari mentions. "I've always heard the people in the south had greater magical powers. Of course, that's where I'm from."

"Whereabouts?," Angel asks.

"Madras."

"Are you Tamil? You're name sounds Tamil."

"Yes. I am." She's impressed by Angel's worldly knowledge. "I'm just wondering if the Gypsies are really, how you say, all that? They impress Europeans, but in Europe everyone's forgotten the old ways. It's like being the best cricket player in America. Zora told us about these Berber curses they'd give to vampires, and they were so much worse." Angel blanches.

"Yeah. I'm familiar with Berber anti-vampire spells. Which is why I steered clear of them; they were uniformly hostile. But the Rumanian Gypsies were different. Certain vampires have lived among them for centuries."

"They were probably pretty wimpy vampires," Rona assumes. "You, they noticed. You, they had to stop."

"So you were very good at being evil," Amanda concludes. Angel would rather talk about his experiences as a champion.

"I try to be the best at everything I do. Just like when I'm fighting demons and rescuing people."

"I'm sure ya got some great stories, but we'd rather not talk about fighting demons," Rona informs him.

"Of course not. After all, you spend so much time fighting them. So, Madari, you're from Madras, and Amanda, you're from right here in Sunnydale. Judging by your accents, I'm guessing Rona's from Atlanta, Fadila's from Michigan, probably Dearborn, and Ariella's from Israel." They're mildly impressed by his accuracy. "Now Fadila, I'm guessing your family's from the Levant. Are they Palestinian? Which would be just what Buffy needs: her very own mini-Middle East peace process."

"It's like those movies where all the races and religions come together to fight the alien invasion," Fadila explains.

"They fight shoulder-to-shoulder, but you know they're arguing off-camera," Ariella jokes.

"Buffy at first was totally freaked."

"But once she realized it wasn't personal, she stopped worrying. To be honest, I don't think she understood what we were debating." Ella and Fadila both chuckle.

"But she has better things to worry about than politics," Fadila offers in Buffy's defense.

"How come you haven't asked us about her and Spike?," Amanda asks. "They've both trained us, so we've seen a lot of them together. Aren't you curious?"

"Actually, Buffy trained us," Rona clarifies. "Spike was always her assistant. She'd order him around. Beat him up every now and then. He never complained."

"Didn't Spike used to work with you a long time ago, back when you both were evil?," Amanda asks.

"He tagged along."

"What was your relationship?," Fadila asks.

"Relationship? There wasn't any. He did look up to me, learn from me, copy me."

"You two are vampires," Madari begins. "Vampires are predators. Why haven't you tried to established yourself as the dominant male?"

"I'm sorry. Establish myself as what?"

"Because here, men aren't dominant," Fadila reminds Madari.

With Fred and Gunn talking to others, Connor sits down with Dawn on the couch. She sits to his right. He puts his right arm around her shoulders, and his right leg becomes entangled with her left leg. He leans in and they start gently smooching. "I've missed these lips," Dawn says to him.

"You keep stealing my lines," he jokes before kissing her again. She puts her right hand under his shirt and against his chest. Twenty feet away, Fred and Gunn catch sight of them.

"Someone didn't waste any time," he says to her. Connor hears him in his left ear and moves his eyes to see them. He pulls away from Dawn and she also notices Fred and Gunn approaching.

"Hey guys," he says to Fred and Gunn. "There's someone I want you to meet." Dawn and Connor stand up. "This is Dawn."

"You must be Winifred and Gunn," she says while shaking their hands. "Connor's told me a lot about you."

"What a coincidence," Fred responds, referring to how much they've been forced t hear about her. "So you're the girl who put the whammy on Connor."

"I guess," she responds equivocally, not quite sure how to interpret that. Gunn and Fred don't know where to take the conversation. It's normal to talk about your respective pasts. But "What's it like to have fake memories and nearly get sacrificed and destroy the universe?" seems somehow inappropriate. "I think you two have really inspired Connor," Dawn offers, shocking Fred and Gunn, as well as Connor. "He got in a big argument with Buffy about, well, tactics." Actually it was about Dawn, but this way it sounds more abstract and technical. "Connor told her that having the people without super powers rely on those with super powers to protect them was a waste of resources, because you didn't need super powers to fight and kill demons. He didn't mention you two by name to Buffy. But, later on, he told me Fred and Gunn slay vampires. The can handle themselves in a fight.' So, I guess, you two were his proof."

This is surprising to them. They had no idea that Connor held them in any regard. They wonder if Dawn embellished to make her boyfriend look better. If so, she did a good job. "You really said that about us?," Gunn asks Connor.

"Guess so," he responds. "I don't remember everything I've ever said. But if Dawn remembers, then I must've." He had only mentioned Cordy by name, and greatly appreciates Dawn's improvisation. He gives her a little smile to show his thanks.

"Isn't Connor a sweetie?," Dawn asks rhetorically, putting her arms around his chest. He leans his head to the right and gazes at her.

"I suppose," Fred replies unconvincingly. "Among other things." Gunn and Fred glance at each other, not quite sure what to make of docile, teddy bear Connor, or of the girl who domesticated the Destroyer. Dawn lets go of Connor and tries to think of things to talk about. She can tell Gunn and Fred are uneasy.

"So . . . how are you guys dealing with having half of Sunnydale High at your hotel which wasn't really supposed to be a hotel in the first place?"

"Kinda crazy the first couple days," Gunn responds. "But once you get used to the crowds and the noise, it's not too bad. We've been through worse."

"Maybe we'll feel a little different if they're still around in a month," Fred adds.

"Except for my friends, right?," Connor asks.

"Of course," Fred quickly responds, knowing Connor asked the question in order to coax one answer.

"Goes without saying," Gunn assures him.

"Dawn, that reminds me," Fred begins, "we met your friend Eli a couple weeks back. When he came to LA to check out Cal Tech. He seems like a cool kid. Cool in the sense that he's a nerd. Like me."

"Elijah and me aren't really that close," she replies tentatively. "He's a nice guy, but I only know him because he's dating my best friend. Have you met Kit?"

"Of course," Fred answers, still trying to put a face to the name.

"She was the one of first ones in," Gunn recalls. "Her dad talked to Wesley." Now Fred remembers. To her, Kit's the scary goth girl with the warlock dad. And Fred was already feeling uneasy about Dawn. So much for Connor's friends making him more normal. He just seems to accentuate their abnormal aspects.

"It was nice meeting you, Dawn," Fred says before glancing over her shoulder and seeing Spike leaning against the wall. "Oh look, Charles. There's Spike. Have you met him yet?" The turn around and walk away. "I don't know what Angel was thinking. He doesn't look at all like Justin Timberlake," Fred whispers into Gunn's right ear.

"But Cordy's Billy Idol remark was right on the money," he whispers back.

"Except he's better looking."

"Billy Idol?"

"No." It takes a second for Gunn to get what Fred's saying, and then he looks alarmed. Does Fred think Spike's hot?"

"I don't think they like me," Dawn says to Connor. He puts his arms around her waist and pulls her close.

"Not liking you. That's possible?" Dawn just smiles, leans back against Connor's chest and sighs happily. Damn it was good to be with him again.

"You must be Spike," Gunn says.

"I'd look pretty bloody ridiculous trying to play anyone else."

"Nice coat," Fred offers. "How come you're wearing it indoors?"

"It has sentimental value."

"How so?," Fred wonders.

"Took it off a Slayer I killed." This puts Fred and Gunn on edge.

"Doesn't that make you feel guilty, now that you've got a soul?," she asks.

"I already have plenty to feel guilty for."

"But why wear reminder of what you once were?," Gunn asks. "Why not give yourself a fresh start?"

"I did that at first. New clothes. New attitude. Didn't work. Buffy said the new me wusn't a good enough fighter. She wanted the old me back."

"She actually said that?," an astonished Fred asks.

"Not in those words."

"Didn't think so," Gunn adds.

"Her exact words were I want the Spike who tried to kill me.' Otherwise I wasn't being the best warrior I could be." Gunn and Fred don't know quite how to react. Fred's completely blown away. Gunn tries to make sense of it.

"Your dark side fueled your intensity," he theorizes, working from his own experience. "It made you a better killer. More creative. A tougher soldier."

"Now you're gettin' it."

"And the coat brings that all out. Like a good luck charm."

"Let me ask you two something. How does it make you feel to work for someone who's dumber than you?" They ponder this, not sure if there's a good answer.

"Was that your way of calling us smart?," Fred asks.

"Or just your way of callin' Angel stupid?," Gunn follows up.

"Can't it be both?"

NEXT: The Scoobies find out about Mal. And Buffy and Angel get some alone time.


	65. Demon Inside

Knossos, on the isle of Crete, 1470 B.C. A wiry, muscular Nubian with a strong jaw and a steely gaze keeps watch over the surrounding countryside from atop the guard tower next to the main city gate. An enemy soldier approaches. When he's a hundred yards from the gate, the guard shoots his bow, knocking off the enemy's conical helmet but missing his head. In response to this warning shot, he tosses down his circular shield, takes off his sword belt and puts his hands up. "Maleqer, it's only me!," he calls out to the guard. "I was just making sure you were on duty tonight." The other guards wouldn't have fired until he was fifty yards away, and none could shoot as accurately as the Nubian. Maleqer climbs down from the roof and meets the enemy commander ten yards in front of the guard tower.

"How much are you willing to offer me now, Agnon?," Maleqer asks the Mycanean adventurer.

"Five talents silver. One talent gold. More than you could earn in ten lifetimes."

"And why would I want so much treasure? What could I buy with it that I want?"

"Power. You could purchase a small army."

"I already have one." Agnon laughs.

"It's not your army. You only lead them. The King tells you what to do. Don't you want to be more than a servant?"

"That is all I will be to you."

"Once I am King of Knossos, you can use my money to buy some of my soldiers and capture Mallia. Just as I moved on after helping Necho take Khania."

"You came with Necho from Naupactus. You are one of his people. I am a foreigner. Your soldiers won't honor and respect me."

"They'll respect your talent. Better to serve a foreigner who wins than a native who does not. But let's cut to the chase. You're outnumbered ten to one. Your soldiers are demoralized and underpaid. They've watched as one-by-one their master's towns have fallen to the enemy. You gain nothing by sticking it out."

"You're wrong, Agnon. The more of your men I kill, the more you'll be willing to pay me to stop."

"How much are you holding out for?"

"Twice your latest offer." Agnon can't believe what he's hearing.

"For one-twentieth of what I'm offering you, I could pay one of your soldiers to kill you in your sleep. Or, I could offer the same sum to the man in my army who kills you in battle. That should take care of whatever fear you strike in their hearts. You're not invincible."

"Not yet," Maleqer jokes. Hiding behind a bush one hundred yards away is a woman who laughs heartily at the commander's idle boast. Agnon picks up his weapons and walks away. When Agnon is out of Maleqer's sight, she attacks him. Maleqer thinks her heard someone yelling. There had been a number of mysterious killings recently that didn't appear to be the work of the Mycanean invaders. But the only civilians Maleqer was responsible for were the ones inside the city walls. And there had been no murders in Knossos, causing hundreds of shepherds and farmers to stream into town seeking protection. From his guard post, Maleqer sees a black woman walking towards the gate. That was a very unusual sight round these parts. She is tall, and slender, with short hair and a long face. She wears a flowing white gown, like some sort of angel. The gate is to Maleqer's left. But she's approaching on his right. "What is she planning to do? Climb the wall?," he thinks to himself in jest. No. She jumps it, landing on the parapet. Astonished but determined, Maleqer pulls back his bow and puts an arrow in her neck. She doesn't go down. So he puts one in her chest. Doesn't seem to do any good. She catches the third arrow, which was aimed for her heart. Maleqer rushes down from the tower onto the parapet, his spear in his right hand.

"Why not call for help?," she asks in his native tongue, which he has not heard for many years.

"Wouldn't do any good."

"Because you think you can kill me on your own, or because you know that I'll kill any man you send after me."

"You're the blood monster." She laughs at this naive attempt to name her.

"I've been called by many names. But yours is especially quaint. You really have no idea what I am."

"You're a killer. But not a person. You kill to feed. Like an animal. Your eyes, they are hungry, like a lion's. I've looked into the eyes of hundreds of men in the heat of battle. Not one pair ever looked like yours do now." He may be naive, but he is observant. She hasn't even gone over to her vampire eyes yet. The woman slowly and seductively walks up to him. She's nearly his height, though right now she looks to him like she's about ten feet tall. He levels his spear. "Halt." She smiles and stops two feet in front of the point.

"You think I'm your enemy, Mal. You could not be more wrong. At this moment, you are the one creature on earth whose enemy I am not." No one's ever referred to him by this, or any other, nickname. She pronounces "al" the way it would be pronounced in Spanish or Arabic, and lingers on the "L" to make the name sound more menacing.

"You're a seductress." Once again, he makes her sound petty in a way she finds absolutely adorable.

"The best. Though it's the least of my talents." When she takes another step forward, he plunges the spear into her heart. She grabs hold of the shaft before the wood enters her chest, rips the spear away from Maleqer and tosses to her right onto the ground outside the walls. He looks at the gaping wound. This was not good. He'd heard stories about mythical monsters. Unlike this woman, they tended to be hideously ugly. But beheading always seemed to do the trick. As he unsheathes his sword, she leaps at him. When he swings, she grabs his right wrist with her left hand and stops him. He looks at her face, which has turned quite monstrous. Those glowing yellow eyes. Those two inch-long fangs. It was horrifying. He shoots out his left hand, trying to gouge her eyes with his index and middle fingers. She growls and grabs his left wrist with her right hand, pulling it out to the side. She was impossibly strong. He opens his mouth to yell for backup. But before he can say a word, she drives her fangs deep into the left side of his neck. He grimaces at the pain and drops his sword, but he doesn't scream or cry out. She respects that. Maybe her hunch was right. After a few seconds, she pulls back and lets go. Maleqer falls to his knees. On the verge of passing out, he catches sight of the open wound he made when he stabbed her heart with his iron spearhead. Without know why, he leaps at her chest and puts his mouth to the wound. Though nearly dead, he lunges with enough force to put her on her back. He drinks lustily. At first, she smiles, delighted by his eagerness. But soon enough, she finds him a little too eager. "That's enough. That's enough!," she commands. She tries to pull his head away, but cannot. Within a few seconds, he rolls off of her and looks up at the stars. They seem to glow like hundreds of campfires. He smiles, closes his eyes, and is dead.

His sire lies to his left. She'd never before been exhausted by a siring. She didn't even know that was possible. Especially to a vampire of her immense strength. She was certain her latest creation had a bright future ahead of him.

After dinner, everyone settles down in the living room, where the four couches are arranged in a square, with four easy chairs at the corners. On the couch at the front of the room are, from right to left (clockwise, with the front of the room as six o'clock), Angel, Gunn, Fred and Wesley. In the chair to Wesley's left is Andrew. On the couch to Andrew's left are Fadila, Ariella, Madari and Rona. Giles sits in the chair to Rona's left. To his left, and opposite Angel and friends, are Kennedy, Willow, Xander and Buffy. To Buffy's left, and diagonally across from Andrew, sits Spike. To his left, on the couch opposite the Potentials, are Anya, Amanda, Connor and Dawn. In between Dawn and Angel, in the chair diagonally across from Giles, is Faith.

"You guys always eat so well?," Gunn asks.

"The Mayor made sure this place was well-stocked," Xander explains.

"And there's no reason to ration supplies," Buffy adds. "After all, it was our last supper." She senses a chill settling over the room. "Our last one here. Since tomorrow night we'll be able to live above-ground." This reminds Connor of his dream of Dawn moving in with him at the Hyperion. He finishes scarfing down the last of the brownies, turns his head to the left, looks at Dawn and smiles. She notices a big glob of fudge just to the left of his mouth. She reaches out and swipes it off his face with her right index finger. He grabs her right hand, pulls it towards his mouth, sucks the chocolate off her finger and smiles. Those who notice quickly try to forget.

"I really liked the blood pudding," Angel says to Andrew, who greatly appreciates the compliment because they are so few and far between for him.

"You never made me blood pudding," Spike grouses.

"I made it for both of you," Andrew assures him. Wesley's been busy looking over Faith's stake.

"Four thousand years old, and it looks as if it was carved only yesterday. How did they preserve the wood?"

"By magically placing it inside a living tree, or so it would appear," Giles responds.

"The very stake used by Amen-irdis herself," Wesley adds before tossing it back over to Faith.

"Who?," she asks.

"The original Slayer it was made for," Giles explains.

"You mean the girl who got eaten by a croc?," she follows up.

"One and the same. By the way Wesley, how do you happen to know her name?" After all, Giles didn't know it until a few days ago, and Wesley had no reason to ever research her.

"When the Council fired me, they said I had allowed Faith to become the most dangerous Slayer since Amen-irdis."

"Score one for irony," Faith quips as she grips the handle of the stake as if it were a sword. At twelve inches long, sixteen if you count the handle, it's nearly as long.

"While we're playing show-and-tell, I have something I would like to show you, Rupert." Wesley reaches behind the couch, grabs a bag, opens it, and tosses a skull to Giles, who sits fifteen feet away. The jawbone has been bolted onto the head. All the Sunnydale people gasp. A shocked Giles catches it in his lap and takes a look.

"It's a vampire skull," he says with trepidation.

"Not just any vampire skull," Angel responds.

"It's Mal's skull," Wesley explains.

"These teeth. My goodness," Giles marvels. "They're like a tiger's." When Mal went bumpy, his thirty two human teeth became sixteen vampire teeth, eight on top and eight on the bottom. The two fangs are three inches long, and the other fourteen teeth are one inch-long, every one of them tapering to a sharp point. These pearly whites were bigger and more elegant than any vampire's are supposed to be. No awkward, ungainly overbite for Mal.

"You preserved his head?," an alarmed Buffy wonders.

"No. We couldn't destroy it," Angel replies. "Or any of his other bones."

"God knows we tried," Gunn adds.

"Maybe you needed a bigger hammer," Xander quips. "Or someone strong to wield it."

"See for yourself," Wesley dares. "Go ahead. Give him your best shot." Buffy stands up and walks over to the weapons closet. The idea of a vampire's bones being intact gives her a severe case of the wiggins.

"It never occurred to you that, oh, say, some Titan who misses him would come by, steal the bones and try to bring him back?," Dawn asks.

"Of course it did," Angel assures them. He notices Buffy taking out Olaf's very big hammer and looks over at Wesley. "Are you sure this is a good idea?," he whispers.

"Trust me," Wes responds. "She won't even dent it."

"Nina would need all his bones to bring Mal back," Fred explains. "At least all the major ones. I suppose he could be dangerous without a metacarpal or two. Wesley mailed the pelvic bones and the femurs to the guy from France who gave us all those books."

"So even if the vamp was resurrected, he'd have a really hard time walking," Gunn jokes. In addition, Cordy took his patellas and tibias with her to New York. So Mal would have no legs at all.

"Claude has them?," Giles asks.

"On display. In a glass class in the lobby of the new Council building. Annette sent me an email about it. Buffy lies the skull on the floor in the middle of the twelve-by-twelve foot open space between the couches and chairs. She brings the hammer down with enough force to crush most rocks. But the skull only momentarily contracts, as if it we being squeezed, then bounces back. Buffy's bewildered. She takes another hack. Same result. Mildly embarrassed for having failed in front of everyone, she picks the skull up and puts the hammer away.

"It's pretty heavy," she notes.

"Twice as dense as a human skull," Wesley proudly declares. "All his bones are. I suspect his muscles were also twice the normal density."

"One of the reasons he was so hard to knock down," Gunn comments.

"And the main reason it hurt so much to hit him," Angel adds. "Punching his bones felt like hitting concrete. Hitting his muscles felt like pounding your knuckles into an adobe wall. Hurt you more than him."

Xander likes the construction metaphors. "Normal concrete, or reinforced?," he asks in jest.

"Interesting that you'd mention that," Fred responds. "I took some scrapings off one of the bones for chemical analysis, and I found a high quantity of iron. You see those little brown specs all over his skull?"

"How the hell do you reinforce your own bones?," Spike wonders.

"As you know, vampires ingest large amounts of iron," Wesley condescendingly explains. "Mal's physiology knew what to do with it. He also claimed never to have sired another vampire and had an obsessive fear of blood loss."

"Conserving precious bodily fluids," Andrew concludes.

"Like what they used to say about masturbation making men sickly," Anya adds with her usual glib offensiveness. "Except he's afraid of wasting blood and not – "

"There are also some interesting minerals mixed in there," Fred interrupts, to the relief of many. "One of them is from a volcanic rock used in Roman concrete. His digestive system must have been able to filter out trace amounts of chemicals and deposit them where they'd do him the most good."

"As best as we can figure, he ate and exercised his way to a better body," Wesley declares. "To fuel that body, he drank at least twenty gallons of blood a day – half his weight every twenty four hours.

"Like a vampire bat," Dawn notes.

"How do you know how much he drank?," Spike asks Wesley. "Did you measure it out for him?"

"During his five nights in Los Angeles, he killed and drained at least forty people a night. It seems he was always a prodigious eater, though certainly not initially on this scale."

"Well that goes without bloody saying," Spike responds, a little intimidated because Mal's exploits make William the Bloody seem like William the Bloodless by comparison.

"How old was this guy?," Buffy asks.

"Thirty five hundred years," Angel responds.

"How hideous did the old guy look?," Faith wonders.

"He looked human," Connor reports.

"Like Wesley Snipes," Gunn adds.

"Really?," Andrew follows up.

"Actually, I thought he looked like Djimon Honsou," Angel dissents.

"No, I definitely Wesley Snipes," Wesley concurs.

"How come I never heard of this guy?," Buffy demands to know.

"Because he didn't officially exist," Giles responds. "His exploits were too legendary to be taken seriously."

"Too bad to be true," Spike comments before it hits him. "Are you talking about THE Mal!? The killer of twenty Slayers! He's real?" Spike goes from excited to disappointed. "And Angel killed him?"

"No. I did," Connor brags.

"I'm the one who knocked his head off," Angel reminds his son.

"But I'm the one who cut his spine."

"Half of his spinal cord."

"Whatever. That was the only reason you took his head off."

"I know. WE killed him, son. Together." It's their closest father-son moment. Unfortunately, Angel never had the opportunity to bond with Connor in a way that didn't involve excruciating pain and nearly fatal injuries.

"Right. You'd be dead without me," Connor responds cagily.

"I could say the same about you," Angel points out. Dawn's alarmed. But Buffy's more alarmed. Though not about Connor.

"Twenty Slayers? Is that true?"

"Each and every kill documented," Wesley answers.

"Shouldn't we have known about this guy?," Faith asks.

"A little heads-up would have been nice," Buffy adds. "Oh, by the way, some super Slayer-killer is in the neighborhood."

"I told Rupert," Wesley responds. Faith and Buffy are outraged at Giles.

"You already had enough on your mind," Giles says in his own defense.

"You have to understand, he hadn't tried to kill a Slayer in nearly eighteen centuries," Wesley adds to bolster Rupert's case.

"He said they were too fragile," Angel explains. "That they died before he was even warmed up."

"And you're tougher?," Buffy asks pointedly. "No offense, but, well, come on!"

"Like she said," Faith concurs. "We're stronger than you. Or Connor."

"I didn't say we were stronger," Angel replies. "I said we were more durable." Buffy had to concede that Connor compensated for his rashness with his almost disturbing ability to absorb punishment.

"Mal prefers to kill his opponents by beating them to death," Wesley tells them.

Spike laughs. "Well no wonder he couldn't kill you! You can't dust a vampire without . . . dusting him."

"What if I ran you over with a steam roller?," Wesley asks, almost making it sound like a threat. "You wouldn't be dust. But I imagine you'd be dead. If you beat a vampire bad enough, his body loses the ability to hold itself together."

"I hear about him doing the same thing to demons!," Anya exclaims.

"You knew this vampire?," Wesley worries.

"Heard of him. From some of the older girls. They said he beat demons to death in front of large crowds in order to scare some demons and impress the rest. Put on quite a how while doing it. They said he had real flair. And a killer body that just wouldn't quit. Let me put it this way: if he was half as good in bed as these Vengeance Demons claimed he was, Nina won't just be the strongest woman on the planet. She'll be the angriest."

"A fighter and a lover," Spike notes.

"THE lover. And THE fighter. Apparently he was quite the perfectionist. Redefined the orgasm, from what I've heard. Made all previous ones feel like a mere tingle."

"That's enough. We get the point," Angel suggests. Given the fact that Darla slept with Mal, he's not comfortable hearing about that vampire's prowess.

"So where's he been for my entire lifetime?," Anya asks, alarming Xander. "Oh, stop it. I didn't like sleeping with vampires. Unless I'm needy and desperate and can't do any better." Spike looks wounded. "He's been out of sight for more than a thousand years."

"One thousand four hundred," Wesley clarifies. "It appears that after two millennia he no longer found this dimension sufficiently challenging, and went off to fight in demon dimensions, several of which he conquered. However, he returned here every few decades to massacre humans and fight other immortals who had made a name for themselves."

"In the end, there can be only one," Andrew intones, imagining Mal as an ebony Highlander. "Except now, when there's two. That seemed somehow unfair to him. "Well, one and, well . . . " Connor, after all, was not an immortal.

"That's why he came," Angel explains. "When we met, Mal told me he liked the challenge of two opponents. Also, Connor was something he'd never seen before. And at his age, that was pretty rare."

"Said to same to me," Connor adds. "Like I should feel honored cause he wanted to kill me."

"And he could have," Buffy responds. "One-on-one, neither of you would stand a chance. Correct?" She still feels a little threatened by their exploits, especially because of that line about Slayers not being challenging enough for Mal.

"Of course," Angel replies, surprising Buffy with his quick assent. "He had plenty of chances."

"Same with the rest of us," Fred adds, Gunn and Wes grimly nodding in agreement. "It was like a game to him, with rules and stages."

"So what you're saying is, you didn't kill him. Chivalry did," Spike comments.

"The guy's probably been chivalrous for three thousand years," Angel surmises. "And it never got him killed. Until he met us." Angel reaches out his right hand. Connor reaches out his left and slaps it. This is about as warm a gesture of affection as Connor will give Angel in public. And after being through so much acrimony, Angel cherishes everything he can get. Faith, who's in between them, watches this, and joins Buffy in feeling slighted by the men hogging the glory.

"So he killed twenty Slayers over two thousand years – which is only one a century, and that's not a whole lot if you think about it – but did he never fight two at once?," Faith asks.

"I don't think he ever had the chance," Wesley replies. Buffy bursts out laughing.

"Didn't have the chance? We were right here!"

"Mal liked to go where the challenge was," Connor responds. It takes people a second or two to realize how stinging of a rebuke this is. Dawn worries he's about to get into a major row with Buffy.

"Is that so?," Buffy answers, sounding ready to put the boy in his place one and for all.

"Whadya say B? Should we just kick their asses right here and now? Remind them what Slayers are made of?"

"You're missing the point," Angel offers, trying to play peacemaker while still tooting his own (and Connor's) horn. "It's not what you can dish out. It's what you can take. He'd have you crippled and bleeding to death internally before you could even hurt him. Trust me, you've never faced a vampire even close to Mal."

"I killed the Master. "Have we forgotten about that?," Buffy asks condescendingly. " Angel chuckles.

"Mal used the Master as a punching bag. Compared him to Michael Jackson. Which I found deeply disturbing."

"Yeah. Me too," Buffy responds with a look of deep confusion. After all, she had been killed by him. "He's nuts. That makes no sense."

"Bollocks! It makes complete bloody sense. Explains the Anointed One."

"I meant that Mal said the Master became less talented and his moves became more predictable as time went by."

"He also had one trick the Master never mastered," Angel notes cryptically. "Or any other vampire I've met." Connor understands what his father's implying, and he pulls the golden cross he's wearing around his neck out on top of his shirt.

"You see this cross?," Connor asks. "It was Mal's. He wore it when we killed him." Buffy, Giles and the Scoobies look dumbfounded. "That's kinda how I looked when I first saw him wearing one," Connor jokes.

"It's really demoralizing when another vampire uses crosses and holy water against you," Angel comments.

"That's not possible," Giles declares.

"There's not a Vampires for Jesus cult we should be know about?," Amanda asks.

"Not unless the vampires are more than two thousand years old," Wesley responds. "Apparently, a vampire is immune to talismans that didn't exist when they became vampires."

Ariella looks down at the Star of David she's wearing. "I knew this came with special advantages." Fadila feels a little slighted, since hers is the youngest of the monotheistic faiths.

"Ella, if you encountered a vampire who was old enough for that to matter, that wouldn't be enough to protect you."

Dawn puts her left hand on Connor's chest, picking up the crucifix and looking at it. "So how bad did this vampire hurt you?," Dawn asks Connor.

"Couldn't walk for two days. Same with Angel."

"But you're better now?"

"Still have a few bruises. Like right here." He points to a spot on his left rib cage. Dawn puts her hand there. Connor winces. She slowly rubs it for a few seconds. Connor smiles. "Thanks. That's better." Dawn rests her right arm on Connor's left leg and holds his left hand. Connor smiles slyly at her as the conversation drifts on to other topics.

"Wut about Mal and Candace? Are those stories true?," Spike asks with a smile. Wes and Angel know why he's smiling, and they look squeamish.

"Actually, it's pronounced Kandake. And yes, they were an item," Wesley concedes. "More than fifteen centuries ago."

"Kandake," Giles repeats. "That's a Nubian word denoting a female warrior who protects the people." It occurs to him what this means. "Oh dear."

"No," Willow says, quickly catching on.

"Why no?," Spike asks self-consciously. Turns out the "legend" of Mal and Kandake gave him hope that Buffy could go for him even when he was soulless. You might say their relationship was once an inspiration to Spike.

"So he had sex with a Slayer," Anya groans. "Big deal. Why is this news?"

"You mean he sired one of the Slayers he killed?," Willow asks, trying to find a way out.

"I thought you said Mal never sired anyone," Spike gleefully points out.

"So Buffy isn't the exception?," Rona asks. "She's the norm?"

"I think I get it," Amanda begins. "Slayers don't date regular guys, unless they're super molten hot like Lindsey." Rona, Fadila, Ariella and Madari all smile. Faith loves it. Buffy, Angel and Spike hate it.

"Dating's not the word," Gunn comments. "More like married."

"That's possible?," Buffy asks.

"Maybe in the Netherlands," Willow quips. "Or one of the Scandinavian countries."

"They were together for nine years," Wesley explains. "Traveled across the known world. Nearly wiped out the vampire population on three continents. Kandake is believed to have slayed more vampires than any other Slayer."

"That's just because she had so much time," Buffy offers defensively.

"So what happened?," Kennedy asks. "Did the vampire finally get bored and kill her?"

"The Council of Watchers had her assassinated," Wesley responds, causing a few gasps.

"Why the hell would they do that?," Rona asks.

"Because she chose to have nothing to do with them. And because she was sleeping with a vampire."

Buffy gasps, being guilty of both actions herself. "They can kill you for that?"

"A soulless vampire," Angel notes. She gasps again.

"A soulless vampire who's killin' twenty people a day," Gunn adds. That was a mild relief for Buffy. Though still unsettling.

"So tell us about your encounter with Nina," Giles suggests, desperately wanting to change the subject. Angel and Connor wince and close their legs. Though everything's now back where it should be, they don't want to recount the experience.

"Flame throwers don't do a damn thing to her," Gunn reports.

"You have a flame thrower?," a wide-eyed Amanda asks. "Co-ol."

"She licked me," Fred reports with a queasy look on her face.

"That little slut!," Anya exclaims. Everyone else, save Willow, looks at Anya as if she's more crazy than usual. "I guess Titan-Tramp will put her tongue on anything with a skirt."

"You mean she does this a lot?," Fred asks.

"To me, at least," Willow responds.

"She really seems to have the hots for Willow," Anya adds. "And Giles. When Nina was holding me hostage, she just when on-and-on about him."

This startles and amuses Wesley. "Rupert, I had no idea you were her type."

"Tell me about it," Willow adds. "The evil babes usually go for Xander."

Anya doesn't like the implication. "You think I'm evil?" A few seconds later, she smiles. "You think I'm a babe? Thank you for noticing." Willow declines to clarify the unintentional compliment, choosing rather to forget the whole thing.

"By the way, I was wondering, what's with the giant dome that's risen from the ashes?," Fred asks.

"And how'd your Big Bad build it so fast," Gunn adds.

"She had help," Xander responds.

Giles explains. "Dozens of synthetic demons designed to perform construction, mining, metallurgy and other skilled manual labor the First Evil may desire."

"Why?," Gunn follows up. The Big Bads he knew were more interested in destroying than building.

"The device they intend to use to cleanse the world of Slayers requires sunlight. But the Turokh-hans they plan to deploy to overwhelm us require protection from the sunlight. A dome with a small hole at the top met both requirements," Giles surmises.

"No offense, but how would getting rid of Slayers destroy the world?," Fred asks. It's not as if humanity doesn't have other champions.

"The Power a Slayer possesses is renewable," Giles points out, trying as best he can not to callously make Slayers sound replaceable. "On the other hand, if one were to kill Angel, a new ensouled vampire would not materialize. The same principle applies to Connor, to Willow . . . and Spike," he grudgingly concedes.

"So Slayers are like the sun, and all other champions are like fossil fuels," Fred interprets.

"Something along those lines," Giles concedes. "Actually, that's not a bad analogy." Fred appreciates the compliment. Following the metaphor through, that would make Willow nuclear power: extraordinary amounts of concentrated latent energy, but liable to cause catastrophic meltdown when not properly cared for.

"What mystical device are they using?," Wesley asks Giles.

"The Pearl of Merv."

"The Merv Stone!," Fred responds. "I thought that was good?"

"Usually. It's designed to absorb and extinguish demonic power. For instance, if a Loesh demon was flying towards your town, proper employment of the Stone would turn the giant dragon into a creature no bigger than a dragonfly."

"You mean that Slayers got a demon inside them?," Gunn asks. Spike tries to keep from grinning.

"Demon power," Kennedy corrects him. "But not an actual demon." Speaking of demons, Connor's been getting increasingly frisky with Dawn as the conversation's gone on. He has his left arm around her shoulder, his right hand on her right leg, and now tries to nibble on her right ear. Dawn gently pushes him away and tells Connor to cut it out. He leans back in and kisses her neck. Dawn puts her right hand on his chest, pushes him back and tells Connor to stop it. He just notices that she put one of her hands on him, and continues with his playful antics. But when he leans in again to kiss her, Dawn turns her head to the right and bites his lower lip. This only succeeds in getting him exponentially more turned-on. He pulls his head back an inch or two, but she doesn't let go. Connor's eyes light up and he growls, ensuring that everyone notices them.

"Oh God," Xander blurts out in revulsion. Dawn immediately lets go, stops touching Connor and turns around to face everyone else, looking chagrined and blushing. Connor, on the other hand, doesn't know why he should feel ashamed.

"Someone get the fire hose," Fred mutters under her breath. It wasn't the cuddling or the kissing that got to her, but the animalistic behavior: Dawn playfully biting, Connor growling happily.

"Is this how you behave in front of company?," Buffy weakly tells Dawn, trying to hide her disgust behind formality. What she had seen only confirmed her belief that Connor was a very bad influence on Dawn. But the worst was yet to come.

"I'm don't know," Dawn petulantly responds. "Then again, I had to sit through all your public grope-a-thons with Riley." This is a triple score, since it not only embarrasses Buffy but makes Spike and Angel deeply uncomfortable. Connor smirks at Fred and Gunn.

"You didn't try very hard to keep it under wraps. Alpha male." Connor chuckles and whispers in Dawn's right ear. She laughs.

"That's not where the blood's going?" A triple score for Connor, by embarrassing Fred and Gunn while making Wesley uncomfortable. Angel's picking up a strong "Don't Mess With Me" scent from Connor and Dawn, similar to the one he's picked up from Connor, Elijah and Kit, but much stronger. Like that given off by an animal lashing out when it feels cornered. Dawn can sense the hostility they've engendered. "Connor, would you like to go for a walk outside?" Alone time. He smiles. She takes his left hand in her right hand, gets up and starts walking towards the door.

"Are you sure that's safe?," Angel asks Buffy and Giles.

"Dawn should be safe," Buffy responds casually. "Nina may want to take vengeance on Connor. You two have fun."


	66. Worlds to save, lands to conquer

Nina plots how to combine defeating Buffy and avenging Mal. Groo makes his mark and finds his niche in Scyra. And Angel's friends find out there's a world where they're viewed as gods.

Connor emerges on the surface, smiling ear-to-ear. Dawn leaps up, wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him. Connor holds her and spins around, backing up a few steps before tripping over a piece of stone debris and falling on his back. They laugh and kiss some more. Dawn stands up and walks away, confusing Connor. "What's wrong?," he asks before putting his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

"Look around."

"I've seen worse," Connor replies, kissing her right temple, then her right cheek.

"Easy for you to say."

"Good point. So what's wrong?"

"I'm happy. You're here, so I feel great, and then I look around and see this wasteland. Everything thousands of people spent there lives building, gone. So I feel guilty. It is a little incongruous, don't you think?" There's silence. Dawn turns around to see that Connor's confused. Evidently he didn't know what that word meant.

"If you say it is, then yeah," he answers with a smirk.

"How is it you always know the right thing to say?," Dawn asks with a smile before grabbing his shirt, pulling Connor in and kissing him. He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around him again. He really likes that. Makes it seem as if she's surrounding him. Dawn quickly puts her feet back on the ground, pushes Connor back into the side of the van and lunges eagerly at him. He puts his arms around Dawn and kisses her. Connor also likes it when she plays rough.

Two hundred feet away, Nina materializes. Her hair's blonde. She wears tight black pants and a midriff-baring backless silver top. Nina looks shocked, and not at all happy to be back in Sunnydale. She spins around until she spots Darla, who has on the v-neck black sweater and gold pants she wore when crashing Holland's party and feasting on the lawyers. "What is your problem?," Nina demands to know. "For your information, I was in the Hamptons at the hottest party of the year! It's the night before the big event. I need kick back and relax. Have you no regard for morale? By the way, love the outfit. Very fetching."

"Thank you," Darla responds.

"No tell me what I'm doing here!" Darla walks up to Nina, puts her right arm around her shoulders, then moves her head so that Nina's looking right at Dawn and Connor going at it. Nina's jaw hits the floor. It takes her ten seconds to say something.

"You have got to be kidding me. Her? With him!"

"One can't deny the painful irony," Darla comments knowingly.

"Irony, shmirony," Nina responds, pushing Darla away.

"I love you when you're mad," Darla says with a smile as she slowly walks towards her Titan.

"That sniveling, simpering girl is worthless! She has no power. Can't he do better?"

Darla wasn't expecting this to be Nina's first reaction. "I suppose that's one way to look at it," she says with raised eyebrows. "He is a very handsome lad. Has his mother's good looks. And her power. Is someone jealous?," she asks Nina playfully.

"He couldn't survive ten minutes with me," Nina replies, licking her upper lip and grinning.

"But what a great ten minutes they would be for him," Darla quips.

"Mal said the Vampire Spawn belonged with Buffy." Now this really upsets Darla. She strikes Nina's face with the back of her right hand, knocking her ten feet through the air before she crashes into the dirt. When Nina meets with the First, they're in a dimensional pocket, unseen to whatever humans are around them. It's like being inside and invisible room with two way mirrors looking outward. Nina's stunned by Darla's furious reaction. And a little frightened. She hates it when the First gets violent, because it's the one thing that can mess Nina up big time. This is the pitfall of being the one creature the First can touch.

"That beautiful boy can do a whole lot better than Buffy. She is the last girl he, or any other halfway decent man, ever belongs with."

"Okay, okay," Nina says as she stands up. "You really hate that Slayer."

"And you don't?"

"No." Darla picks Nina up. Her feet dangle in midair. "Not that I won't love defeating her and making her suffer horribly." Satisfied, Darla puts Nina down. "But I will enjoy it because I respect her. Buffy never gives up. I used to think it was because she's like Seth and I once were, fighting even when she knows it's hopeless, because she has too much honor to do anything else. Now I know it's because she's like I was after you met me. She never gives up because she's certain of victory. Defeat is inconceivable. So long as she can continue to fight, Buffy – and her friends – will find a way to prevail. So what goes through her mind when she can no longer fight? How painful will it be when the impossible becomes an absolute certainty?"

"That's nice, Nina. Very incisive," Darla flippantly says as she rolls her eyes. "Now pay attention and look at the two lovebirds, one of whom killed YOUR lovebird." She sees Nina tense her jaw and narrow her eyes. "That's my girl. Look at how happy she makes him. Now remember how sad he made you."

"That little bitch."

"I know."

"That ungrateful little bitch."

"Excuse me?" Nina keeps going off on these unforeseen tangents.

"I gave her life. I'm the reason she's alive! And this is how she repays me?"

"I beg your pardon, dear."

"I drove Glory from her dimension into this dimension. Along with the Key."

"I think her enemy gods had something to do with that."

"But I was decisive!"

"Thank you," Darla responds with a smile. "I was the one who put you there at exactly the right moment."

"Triple score. Hurting her hurts him, AND it hurts Buffy." Nina looks at Darla. "And you told me the ex-Key Girl was useless." Connor holds Dawn tight and aggressively kisses the right side of her neck.

"Connor," Dawn moans as she catches her breath. "We should go somewhere else."

"Where?," he asks before lightly kissing the tip of her nose. "Why?," he adds before nibbling on her left earlobe. Dawn leans her head back, sighs happily, and tries to keep her composure.

"Let's go to the beach. It's peaceful. No fallen buildings."

"What's wrong with right here?," Connor asks, reach his right arm out to the side and checking to see in the door is locked. It is. Which is good, because right now Connor's not considering how much this would anger and gross out everyone who had to ride home in the vehicle with him.

"I thought you like the beach?"

"Only if you're there. I'd like Quor Toth if you were there."

"That was a joke, right?"

"If you say so."

"Come on, Connor. Let's get away from everyone. They could pop out of there at any moment, which would totally ruin the mood." She puts her right palm to his left cheek and runs her right thumb over his lips. "Didn't we come out here to be alone?," she asks with a small pout.

"Okay," he says with a sigh, his heart pounding. "Where's the beach?"

Dawn looks a little surprised by the question. "There's a whole bunch to the east. But I think there's one to the west that's a little closer."

"You knew I was kidding, right?" Dawn leaps on his back and puts her arms around his chest. Connor takes a hold of her legs and races towards the setting sun. After going two hundred yards and getting into a built-up residential area, Connor trips on a foundation and falls into a basement as Dawn flies across the hole and lands on the grass in the backyard. At first she screamed, but she laughs after landing softly.

"Okay, no more rickshaw," Dawn says as she looks around. "Connor. Connor?"

"Down here." Dawn looks down and sees him on the basement floor. "Connor, are you okay?"

"You know me," Connor says as he slowly gets to his feet. "Takes a lot more than that to keep me down." Connor leaps back to ground level. "Especially when I got you to get up for." Dawn momentarily wonders if the double entendre is intentional.

"Maybe I should do the carrying," she suggests, picking Connor up and carrying him for about forty feet before letting go. They both laugh. "You know, you're really light. I think that vampire's head weighed more than your whole upper body," Dawn says, only moderately exaggerating.

"That a complaint?"

"Hardly," she responds, putting her hands on his chest. "I love you as a bantamweight. It makes you so much easier to play with." She grabs his shirt and pulls him closer. When their lips are three inches apart, they stare into each other's eyes. Connor growls. Dawn growls back without even thinking. They kiss, Connor puts his right arm around her shoulders, she puts her left arm around his waist, her right hand on his stomach and rests her head on his shoulder as they walk down the street together.

"Is that all?," Nina asks Darla. "Can I go now?"

"Why the hurry? Did you find a nice spot to mope?"

"Mourning period's over, honey. I know I'll never be able to replace Mal. But that doesn't mean I still can't have some fun." Nina disappears. Darla vanishes, them rematerializes closer to Dawn and Connor. She looks glum, folding her arms and shaking her head at what's become of her baby.

"This is what happens when a boy grows up without a mother."

"So are we your first visitors?," Fred asks.

"Other than my girlfriend and your girlfriend," Wesley says to Rupert.

"Do they know each other?," Anya wonders.

"Since Major, er, Kelly was the chief spokesperson for the military, and Stella served the same role on the civilian side, they spent a lot of time working together," Giles explains. "Stella had nothing but good things to say about her."

"Maybe you four can double-date sometime," Gunn suggests, not fully aware of the lingering acrimony between Wesley and Giles. Plus, the idea's just plain yucky. Which is why it makes Wes and Giles cringe.

"There was that cop lady," Andrew points out. "Scully meets Clarisse under the warm California sun." Andrew and Xander sigh, but for slightly different reasons.

"Of course," Willow adds. "Who can forget about Kate?"

"I'd like to," Spike grouses. Angel, Wesley and Gunn would have to agree. They get a little nervous. Except for Angel, who's terrified. But surely it can't be. It just can't.

"Did you say her name was Kate?," Wesley asks with slight trepidation.

"Kate Lockley," Buffy answers. Angel gulps. His unbeating heart falls down to his knees. "Do you know her?"

"No," Angel quickly replies. "Absolutely not."

"Never heard of her," Wesley adds.

"So she's a cop," Gunn notes, feigning ignorance. "A cop who works in Sunnydale?" Angel gasps. That would be a nightmare. Then again, where better than Sunnydale for a cop who specializes in the demonic to ply her trade.

"Kate is with the state police," Giles explains. "She lives in Sacramento." If Angel breathed, he would let out a big sigh of relief right now. "Kate has served as my official liaison to the outside authorities for these past few months, handling the complications that result when girls from around the world are taken from their homes and all brought to a single town for reasons that can't be explained." Now this strikes Angel, Wesley and Gunn as deeply ironic. Kate WAS the law enforcement authority who drew all the wrong conclusions and came after demon fighters. The Kate they knew would have arrested Giles in a heartbeat.

"She's the thin blue line that protects people from what they can't understand," Xander jokes. Yet more irony.

"So, you work closely with this, um, police officer woman?," Angel clumsily asks Giles.

"Yes. In fact, we've become quite good friends." Angel and Wesley look at each other nervously. Fred knows something's up, but isn't sure what. Faith's the only one who can make the connection, but she stays mum, since she'd rather not recount the part of her life when she met Kate.

"If I may ask, how exactly did the two of you meet?," Wesley wonders. Angel wishes Wes hadn't asked that. He wants to drop the whole Kate subject.

"The FBI had begun a missing persons investigation, and their leads pointed them towards California. Absurd and revolting as it sounds, they were operating on the theory that a middle-aged male cult leader was turning the missing girls into his child brides."

"Say what?," Rona exclaims.

"They thought we were your . . . " Kennedy begins. "Oh my God!"

"So that is why you got those dirty looks," Madari recalls, looking nauseous, along with the rest of the girls.

"Kate got out ahead of the Feds and traced the evidence to me. On my last trip back here, she stopped me at the airport and said I had thirty seconds to explain what I was up to before she put me under arrest. It took a little longer than that. At first I said I was protecting them. She demanded to know from what, I equivocated, she could tell I had something to hide, and, to my astonishment, broached the subject of demons. I soon told the whole truth, and Kate proved to be very open-minded and understanding." She was never that understanding when it came to Angel. "She connected what I told her with a spate of ritual stabbings, concluded I was on the level, and decided to offer her help. Soon enough, Kate threw the agents off my scent and proved herself to be a very discrete but highly effective shield." Discrete? Was he talking about the same detective they had known?

"There have been a couple times when we could have used such a shield to protect us from certain overzealous law enforcement officials," Wesley notes with utmost irony. "It's a shame we haven't met this woman." In a way, they hadn't.

"She is from Los Angeles," Buffy notes. "Grew up only a couple miles from where I grew up. I was surprised to find out that we have a lot in common." Surprised doesn't quite capture what Angel's feeling at this moment. "Okay, not a lot. Maybe just a few things. But I never imagined a cop could be so understanding." Neither did Angel. Or Faith, for that matter.

"I know what you're thinking, Angel," Spike surmises. "She's definitely your type. But the lady cop doesn't fancy our kind."

"No," Anya begs to differ. "She just didn't like you." Finally, a small shred of good news for Angel. Now Spike wants to drop the subject.

"Also, your slow-talking, pre-modern friend paid us a visit yesterday."

"My what?," Angel responds. "Wait a second. You don't mean - ?"

"The Groosalug?," Wesley adds.

"Boy, did he come at just the right time," Andrew says.

"It was cool how he chopped up Bringers like they were blades of grass," Amanda comments before looking unsure. "Can you chop up grass like that? Maybe I meant cut down. Either way, the dismemberment was a welcome sight."

"He fought with you, Buffy?," Angel asks, feeling a tad jealous.

"Very briefly."

"Sliced up two Reapers," Faith reports.

"Kind of the turning point of the entire fight," Kennedy notes.

Spike scoffs at this assertion. "Only cuz they didn't see him coming. Not that hard to behead someone who's looking the other way, now is it? And once our would-be hero got a look at Nina, he ran away like nancy boy."

"I'd say that was rather prudent of him," Wesley concludes.

"That doesn't sound like Groo at all," Angel comments.

"Apparently, he recognized her," Giles mentions. "Or, more correctly, he sensed who she was. In his world, he had been taught that no man can kill her."

"Girl's got quite a rep in Pylea," Gunn observes. "Just saying her name gave Lorne the trembles."

"Lorne said he was taught that no demon could kill her," Fred adds.

"Once again, happy to be none of the above," Buffy comments.

"So Groo left Sunnydale once he found out who you were fighting?," Angel asks.

"Only after threatening me with grievous bodily injury," Xander quips. Angel likes the sound of that.

"Why on earth would he do that?," Fred asks. After all, Xander seems like such a nice, sweet, brave guy.

"He has a bizarre, irrational Cordelia fixation," Buffy explains. "Obsession bordering on worship. Do they not have human women where he's from?" Fred and Gunn begin to sense why Cordelia didn't come with them. That would have made for one brutal, nasty cat-fight.

"They have plenty of women where we sent him," Spike adds.

"What is that supposed to mean?," Angel asks. He's imagining that Spike gave him directions to some brothel.

"What do you think?," Anya asks rhetorically. "I sent him to Scyra."

"Scyra," Gunn repeats. "Is that in the Central Valley?"

"It's the dimension I rescued from Spike's tyranny," Angel explains.

"You bloody liar!"

"Wasn't that why you sent me?," Angel asks Anya, putting her on the spot.

"It's called checks and balances. At no time did I use the word tyranny. I may have mentioned something about a potentially dangerous cult of personality. Oh don't give me that look, Spike. You had thousands of people ready to kill for you at a moment's notice."

"Can I help it if I'm popular? By the way, it was my idea to send him. I thought Mister Monosyllabic would fit in better over there."

It is December in Koneg. The marshes have frozen over and snow is falling in the forests. Panthesilea rides her horse in between the trees, chasing a trio of riders. She brings one man down with three arrows in the back, and takes out another with an arrow in the back of the head. While she focused on these two men, the third one circled round and charged her. When she first sees him, he's ten yards in front of her and closing fast. In one second, he'll be right on top of her. She doesn't have time to put her bow away and take out a close-combat weapon. Still holding the bow in her left hand, she ducks down when he tries to run her through with his spear so that her body is lying against her horse's neck. After avoiding the attack she takes her lasso in her right hand and swings it back, catching her opponent and unhorsing him before he can turn around. She dismounts and grabs her spear. The taller, hairy bearded man cuts himself free with his dagger. He's sure the woman will be easy to deal with hand-to-hand. He charges and thrusts for her heart. But while he's much stronger, she's quicker and more experienced. Panthesilea stands still and stabs him through his right hand. He drops the spear a few hundredths of a second before he would have landed the blow. Panthesilea smiles before running him through and piercing his heart. "Men are so predictable," she says as she climbs back on her horse and rides off to camp. Six thousand mercenaries, Amazons, allies and subject conscripts are besieging a large hill fort. Half the soldiers strengthen the camp's defenses against outside attack while the other half join the two thousand slaves they've freed from the enemy in building a ramp up to the enemy's stronghold forty feet above them. Currently, they are ten feet below their goal. Memnon meets Panthesilea.

"More enemy scouts?," he asks her.

"They're dead."

"But their army is getting closer. Ten thousand men from the other four tribes. Three thousand men inside that fortress. And we're running out of food."

"I'm sure they have plenty of provisions inside that stronghold we'll be capturing any day now. Look Memnon. I know you were against this from the start. I remember you saying it was suicide to attack a region without any food reserves after the harvest. But we're so close to winning. And this relieving force – that's nothing. We've faced worse odds on this campaign. Remember the Battle in Hyrcan? Twenty thousand of them against seven thousand of us. And what happened?"

"We routed them. But that's different - "

"We killed seven thousand. Lost only one thousand."

"And they've learned their lesson. They won't give us a second chance to fight in the open field. They'll simply use their cavalry and light troops to prevent us from gathering what meager food and forage is still out there and starve us into submission."

"Why does having children make a man softer? You used to be a terror."

"I'm as fierce as ever."

"Admit it. You miss your boy. And your girl. But you probably miss your boy more," she adds contemptuously.

"Little Nabis is probably taking his first step by now. And Alceste is getting so big. She looks just like her mother."

"She's three. Trust me, she looks nothing like Thalestris."

"And the sooner we triumph, the sooner I can get home and see them. So my children don't make me a weaker warrior. In fact, they make me a stronger one."

"But not strong enough to take on Sigvard and end this once and for all." They both look at the gigantic sword stuck in the earth. The local King, who's held up with his tribe inside the fort, threw down the sword, promising to engage in single combat with any man who could use the weapon. It was his way of taunting the civilized invaders as weak and effeminate, especially because they are being led by a woman.

"I can't wield that monstrosity with any skill. No man can. It's a trick. Sigvard couldn't even use it." They notice a large man on a white horse riding towards them. Memnon takes out his sword.

"Hold on," Panthesilea cautions. "He's not with the enemy."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He's clean." Memnon concedes the point and puts away his sword. Groo walks up to them. He's an inch taller than Memnon, who's about as well-built.

"I have been sent to help. Your leaders thought I could be of service here."

"You sure can," Memnon says with a chuckle. "Pick up that sword, carry it up there, and challenge their King to single combat." To Groo, this sounds like old times. Maybe too much like old times.

"Their King. Is he demon? Or part demon?" Memnon and Panthesilea laugh.

"We wish," Penny says to Memnon. "Then Sigvard would eat all his people, and we'd win!" They both share a laugh. Groo doesn't understand their odd sense of humor. He walks up to the sword. The blade is five feet long, six inches wide and two inches thick in the center.

"Now this is going to be funny," Memnon says to her. Groo grabs the handle with his right hand, picks the sword up, grabs the handle with both hands and starts swinging it side-to-side. Memnon's eyes bug out. He's shocked and emasculated. Panthesilea smiles and sizes up the powerful stranger.

"I'm guessing he doesn't have any children," she says to Memnon. "Not yet, anyway."

"They turned into conquerors!," Angel exclaims. "Where did I go wrong?"

"Where should I begin?," Spike mocks. "Oh. You're just talking about the time you spend over there. Not your life in general."

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Spike," Anya sighs patronizingly. "You knew this would happen. You militarized an entire nation. Raised tens of thousands of troops."

"But only to protect them from Spike's wanton aggression."

"And then you two made peace. Who were your giant armies going to attack? Everyone else. That's who."

"How giant are we talkin' about?," Gunn inquires.

"About thirty thousand a side," Spike answers. Fred, Gunn and Wes are stunned.

"You never told us they were that huge," she says to Angel.

"How on earth, or, in this instance, not on earth, did you attract so many followers?," Wesley asks Spike, implying by omission that it doesn't surprise him that Angel could have such a vast following.

"They convinced the people they were Gods," Anya answers. Once again, Angel had left out this disturbing detail when he first told his friends what happened.

"That was rather under-handed of you," Wesley says to Angel. "Frankly, I'm shocked you would do such a thing."

"I wouldn't have if Spike hadn't already conned everyone into treating him like a god."

"You lying little ponce. They told me I wus a god. I pleaded that I wasn't, they kept saying I wus, so eventually I gave up. Angel, on the other hand, was advertising his supposed godliness from the moment he set foot in their world."

"Why would anyone ever think you were a god?," Fred asks both of them.

"I don't know how many times I asked that very same question," Giles quips, referring only to Spike.

"I thought you were smart," Anya says to Fred. "It's not that hard to figure out."

Willow tries to explain without Anya's condescension. "These people don't have bipedal demons. But they do have anthropomorphic gods."

"And they had no other way of explaining a human with superhuman powers who couldn't be killed by metal stabbing weapons?," Fred asks.

"Guess she is a quick study," Anya comments.

"Angel didn't tell you about their freaky mythology?," Willow asks.

"That was something I chose to forget."

"So you don't know that to these people you're also deities?," Anya wonders. The three of them look at Angel.

"They liked hearing stories about our world. Which they see as a sort of Olympus. They have overactive imaginations and too much time on their hands."

"This is why you let us have boys over that night," Rona concludes. "So you could have fun with your role-playing games."

"Nonsense," Giles responds. "As much as we enjoyed the peace and quiet, I would never consider putting the future of another world in peril solely for the purpose of getting Spike out of the house for a few hours."

"There's a world where I'm worshipped?," Fred asks.

"Where we're all worshipped, each in a different way, by various cults," Anya explains. "Except for Andrew. And the Potentials."

"This is getting pretty twisted," Gunn concedes.

"So if I were to travel to this world, how exactly should I expect to be treated?," Wesley asks.

Gunn realizes the upside. "Are we talkin' parades? Banquets?"

"Concubines?," Xander adds. Wes and Gunn appear intrigued. The women scowl at Xander.

"There's also thousands of men who would be willing to sleep with each and every one of us," Anya tells the other ladies. "And women," she adds for Willow's and Kennedy's sake.

"And I bet they're all pimply losers I wouldn't wanna touch with a ten foot pole," Faith predicts. She knows a little something about attracting the wrong kind of guy. Before Lindsey, of course.

"Not all of them," Anya begs to differ. "Hiero had quite a crush on me, if you remember," she says to Angel.

"He had a thing for free spirits," Angel recalls. "And those were in pretty short supply where he's from."

"Must be why he married Penelope," Spike reports. Angel's stunned.

"Your Penelope? I don't believe it. No. No. I should have known. My last night there, Hiero told me he had fallen in love with a girl who beat him up."

"Their world sounds a lot like our world," Amanda comments.

"Who's Hero?," Gunn asks.

"Hiero," Spike points out angrily. Angel doesn't exactly know how to explain. "Adopted son" would sound very suspicious to them. And God forbid if it got back to Connor.

"He was Angel's page," Anya responds. "Penelope is the sister of Kreon, who was Spike's page. And one more thing," Anya says to switch the subject. "If you find it weird that people worship us and tell stories and write plays about our lives, then you should know I haven't even gotten to the worst part: They don't even think we're real. Or, if they think we're real, they don't think we have free will."

"How can a god not have free will?," Wesley asks, drawing concerned looks from his friends. "I'm trying to see it from their point of view. That doesn't mean I subscribe to it."

"I'm only talking about the intellectuals. Priests, philosophers, men of letters like yourself, ironically. They posit the existence of a Great Storyteller who invented us and pulls our strings. Or a committee of storytellers. There are differences of opinion."

"They never mentioned any of this to me," Angel grouses.

"It's a whole layer-cake of disturbing," Buffy comments. "Still, I don't see what the big deal is. I can't take seriously anyone who thinks I'm a god."

"The supreme, most powerful god, whom our entire universe revolves around," Anya adds. She starts to laugh. "Okay, I see your point. But that's where they stood three years ago. It's gotten worse."

"I'd hate to think how," Fred comments.

"What, are they writin' their own stories about us and makin' us do things we'd never really do?," Gunn asks.

"They've been doing that from day one."

Gunn, Wes and Fred look at Angel. "I didn't pay attention to that stuff."

"Neither did I," Spike adds.

"But they've done something worse. It all starts with Dawn and her phony memories. Some of the eggheads decided that, if her identity could be manufactured, than so could all of ours."

"They think our lives aren't real?," Kennedy asks.

"Not until each of us met Buffy. Or Angel, in the case of you two," she says to Fred and Gunn. "They believe everything we think we experienced before that is nothing but manufactured background material."

"That's bloody insulting," Spike comments.

"How do you think I feel?," Anya responds. "I've lived longer than everyone in this room combined. But like with all really good crackpot ideas, there's no way to disprove it."

"So, to them, only Buffy and Angel are real?," Faith asks.

"No. Angel didn't exist until Buffy met him. And Buffy didn't exist until she moved to Sunnydale."

"Let me get this straight," Giles begins. "According to these voyeurs – who, by the way, are in desperate need of lives of their own – none of us has existed since birth. However, some of us have existed longer than others."

"On the plus side, everything we've done since then is of our own free will. The ones who believe are memories are real also think we're puppets. It's basically a question which idea you find more insulting: that your life's a lie, or that you have no free will."

"Are they this irreverent with all their deities?," Fred asks. "It strikes me as an odd way to treat your gods."

"That's because the eggheads have stopped thinking of us as gods. To them, we're more like really, really, really huge celebrities whose motives and actions they endlessly analyze and whose futures they ceaselessly speculate over. No, that's not just the eggheads. Everybody analyzes and speculates. And the worst part is, a lot of them think I'M going to die tomorrow. They've practically voted me most likely to not make it out of here alive."

"Are you not popular?," Willow asks.

"Hardly. I'm very popular. But, according to these people, I'm also expendable. Buffy dying would be anti-climactic. Faith hasn't had enough exciting, sexy adventures. Andrew dying would be meaningless. So I'm the one who has to go, since I'll be missed, but not missed too much."

"That's wretchedly callous of them," Giles comments.

"Absolutely sickening," Xander adds.

"How would they feel if people speculated about their fate in such a morbid matter?," Giles wonders.

"They think ya'al are gods," Fred points out.

"You too," Spike reminds her. She'd like to forget about that part. As well as the theory that her five years of unspeakable torment in Pylea were just "character background."

"Yes. But my point was, they probably think we don't care what they think. How can a mere mortal hurt a god's feelings? 'Specially a mere mortal livin' in a whole other world."

"By the way, they spend a lot of time discussing and debating your sex life," Anya reports.

Fred's face goes red. "Those sick, twisted, yellow-bellied bastards!" Anya smiles, having caused Fred to refute her own argument.


	67. Angel and Buffy, together again

Mal gets acquainted with life in Hell, where they have very big plans for him. Connor and Dawn get reacquainted down at the shore. Plus, Angel and Buffy renew their chemistry at the graveyard, while Nina and Darla dissect their relationship. Then Angel makes an impassioned plea for Buffy to let him stay and help her in the big fight.

"Eighteen talents silver. Two gold. Plus your finest ship, and a crew of twenty men to sail it. Just as I requested," Mal says to Argus with a smile. He's pale and trembling with terror. Mal pats his right shoulder with his left hand. "What's the matter? I made you king." By biting Argus's commander and drinking his blood, of course.

"You've slaughtered more than two hundred of our men."

"Nonsense, Argus. My lady can take credit for over half of those. As for the others, they were looting your city. Many were raping the women. With my own eyes, I saw at least fifty sacking the palace. Smashing sculptures. Defacing those splendid wall paintings. I was merely maintaining discipline. Doing your job, you might say." Mal chuckles. Argus does not appreciate the joke. He witnessed firsthand what this monster did to his men. How much pleasure he took in sucking the life out of them. "The lives of men are meaningless. They are born, they die, others replace them. What they produce is precious. You may not understand. You may think me mad. But if you are ever fortunate enough to glimpse the pyramids, then you will understand. Flesh rots. Stone is immortal. Remember that, fair King."

"I want you and your woman off this island. Never set foot here again."

Mal laughs at the demand. Partly because Argus is powerless to enforce it. Partly because it is entirely unnecessary. "There's a great big world beyond here. I imagine it will take me a thousand years to see it all before I even think of returning to this humble speck of rock in the middle of the sea." Argus had met Mal when he was a man. He doesn't get why becoming a monster has caused this common soldier to put on airs and talk like some fancy priest or Divine Pharaoh.

"You have fun with that. We're done."

"I don't know about you, but I'm just getting started." Mal picks up the large chest containing his treasure and walks away. Argus is stunned. The bronze chest and its contents weigh more than one thousand pounds. After carrying it for a hundred yards, Mal drops it at the feet of ten men. Then load it onto the backs of their donkeys and continue the journey. Mal climbs onto a black stallion and gallops ten miles north to the shore, where he meets up with Nico (rhymes with Eye-ko). They set sail shortly before sunrise. Nico and Mal are enjoying themselves in their state room beneath the quarterdeck.

"Can I kill one of the men each night?," Nico asks as she sits up and straddles Mal, who's lying on the bed. "It only takes a few to sail a boat. And I'm not going to live off pigs until we reach Lebanon."

"What if we are attacked by pirates during the daytime?"

Nico pouts. "You care too much for the humans."

"It's their world." She slaps him and looks cross.

"It's OUR world."

"Not without them it isn't. And better a world of humans than one of demons. Could demons build the wonders men have put up? Do they have cities? What do they do for fun besides kill?"

"You are young. There is still too much human left inside you."

"Here's hoping I never lose any of it." She punches him in the nose.

"I should kill you right now for your heresy." Mal laughs at her threats.

"Come on, lover. You're saying you prefer a demon's body to this one?" She puts her hands on his pecs and abs, then smiles, conceding at least this one point. Mal may still have the heart of a human, but a hard life of farming, hunting and soldiering has given him with the body of a god.

Back in the present day, Mal wanders the precincts of Hell, his body engulfed in flame. Dozens of others in the same situation run around him, screaming and yelping in pain. "What is his problem?," a red-skinned, skinny, slightly reptilian demon asks a human-looking demon with two tiny black horns on his forehead.

"He's smarter than the rest. He knows that eternal punishment requires the preservation of the flesh."

"Oh no," another red demon declares, shaking his head. "You mean he's figured out that we can't really hurt him? That it's all in his heads?"

"How is that possible?," the other red demon asks. "He can feel the pain!"

"His nerves can. But his brain knows better."

"No wonder the boss wants him working with us."

"He already refused my offer," the human-looking demon reports.

"Damn. How can we change his mind without pain?"

"There are still plenty of ways I can hurt him." The human-looking demon snaps his fingers. The flames disappear. Mal comes out of his flashback. A giant stone-skinned Beast strides towards Mal and kicks him in the chest with its right hoof. He flies thirty feet through the air before his body slams down onto the bed of hot coals that lines the floor. This Beast grabs Mal's neck with his right hand, picks him up and pummels his head three times with his left fist. Mal passes out. The Beast lets go and lets him fall to the ground. The demon joins this Beast, and tells him to drag Mal away. When he comes to, he is a dark cell six feet high, two feet wide and one foot deep, allowing for no movement. On five sides are cold brick. In front of him is a solid steel door. Sensory deprivation. Mal closes his eyes, and returns to his memories. It's a little over two hundred years after he was sired. Mal is in a palace in Thebes, waiting for the Slayer, or "Sma," as the Egyptians call them. He has heard that killing one can be quite a treat.

Connor and Dawn get to the beach as the sun is setting. "Isn't this better?," she asks him.

"It's more peaceful." He looks east at the cliffs (Sunnydale's one hundred feet above sea level) and west at the waves and the orange-red setting sun. To the south is a strip of sand running three miles towards Asuncion Point, where the cliffs jut into the water, and the northwestern trajectory that characterizes the Southern California coast all the way from San Diego makes an abrupt right turn and heads almost due north through Northern California, Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. The beach extends to the north for about a mile before meeting the bluffs where Xander disarmed Dark Willow the previous year. From the isolated shore, the leveled town is not visible. "Like nothing's changed." Dawn takes off her gray sweatshirt. Underneath, she's wearing the skimpy top she had on when dancing with R.J. at The Bronze. Connor flashes a goofy adolescent grin as he gets a look. His heart starts racing. "Okay. That's new."

"You look a little flush." She unbuttons the top two buttons on his blue silk shirt. He kisses her aggressively. The boy's clearly excited. "It's not quite new. I wore it when I went out with this guy last fall." Connor looks concerned. "It was a one-time thing. There was this love spell he had on all the girls in town." Connor puts his hands on her hips and stomach, moving his fingers up under the shirt as he kisses her neck and exposed right shoulder.

"He didn't deserve you," he declares before kissing her neck, chin and lips. She runs her fingers through his hair, then puts her hands on the back of his neck.

"That's sweet of you to say," she responds, caressing his face with her right hand. He kisses her lips a few more times. She smiles and rubs the tip of his nose with hers, putting her right hand on his chest so she can feel his heart. Dawn loves that she can make him so excited. She grabs his butt with her left hand and detects a noted elevation in his pulse.

"What happened to him?," Connor asks, feeling a sudden urge to possible pummel one of the current guests at the Hyperion.

"He's dead. Vampire attack. Plus maybe erotic asphyxiation. Something really gross." After getting sired by Drusilla, Vi seduced R.J., then killed him en coitus on the roof of the Bronze.

"Good," Connor replies without thinking, since he's glad he doesn't have to see this guy. Dawn backs away. "Sorry. I didn't mean, ya know. People dying is bad." He pauses and stares nervously at the ground. "Anyone else? Besides that vampire you kissed . . . and then staked?"

"No." Dawn can forgive Connor's initial reaction to R.J.'s fate. She understands jealousy. "Anyone you haven't told me about?"

"Naw. Okay, there was this one vampire who came onto me really strong. And I was kinda tempted. But I staked her before anything happened. I swear."

"I know," Dawn replies before flashing a small smile and reaching her right hand out to undo the third button on his shirt. "You're a lousy liar."

"Hope that's the only thing you think I'm lousy at," he answers with a smirk. Dawn closes her eyes and laughs for a moment. Connor steps forward, pulls her close and kisses her. She wraps her arms around him and they suck face for a little while. Then Connor drops to his knees and kisses her exposed hips and stomach, tonguing her belly button. Dawn moans and falls to the sand. Connor gets on top and they lip-lock and grope some more.

"God, I've missed you so much," Dawn tells Connor as he kisses her neck.

"How long has it been?"

"Twenty days, eleven hours and thirty five minutes. But who's counting?"

"I've dreamed about you every night. Well, most nights," Connor clarifies. "I can't control my dreams." It's almost like he's confessing out of a guilty conscience. Dawn thinks that's absolutely adorable. She smiles sweetly while running her right hair through the left side of his hair, which was starting to fall down over his forehead, which she kisses.

"You have this great way of making a girl feel like the important person in the whole world without even seeming to try."

"You are. At least to me."

"Case in point."

"I love you Dawn."

"Kinda noticed. Subtlety's something else you're not so good at." Connor reaches for his zipper. Dawn grabs his right hand with her left hand. "Case in point."

"What?," Connor asks, genuinely surprised and severely disappointed. He interlocks his fingers with hers, lifts her hands up and kisses her knuckles. "Something wrong?" ("How could the form-fitting leather pants fail him?," Connor thinks to himself.)

"It's just not the right . . . time." Turns out the looming apocalypse and the prospect of imminent death were not turn-ons for Dawny. They were just downers.

"I understand," Connor mumbles, not very convincingly. The end of the world seemed to get Cordy in the mood. Then again, she was most likely just using him to get pregnant with he still didn't know (and didn't want to know) what. Suffice it to say, there was still a lot about women he didn't yet understand. A dejected Connor stands up. Dawn sits up, reaches her right leg out and kicks his shins. He falls forward. She grabs him and rolls over so she's now on top.

"I didn't say we still couldn't have a little fun."

"What about more than a little?," he asks with a sly smirk.

"That's open to interpretation." She opens the rest of his buttons and pulls his shirt open, revealing quite a number of black and/or purple welts. She looks concerned as she gently runs her fingertips over his ribs and abdomen. "Are these all from Mal?"

"Most. I think a couple of the fresh ones are from Nina."

"Rough week."

"They all are. When you're not around." Pain was old hat to Connor. Pleasure was far more novel.

"Just so you know, you're way past the point when you have to impress me." That was an understatement. For Dawn, Connor probably passed that point five minutes after meeting her. He is by nature impressive.

"Come on, D. Just trying to keep it real." Like everyone else who knows Connor (save Elijah, who finds it quaintly charming coming from a guy raised in a hell dimension), she's not quite comfortable with his incongruous adoption of hip-hop slang. Connor can sense that Dawn's not exactly down with it. "I say what I feel. Always have." Dawn considers this for a second. Connor's right. He does. Even when (as was the case when he accused Buffy of being a bad sister) it risked getting him killed.

"Definitely NOT one of your bad qualities." They stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Then Dawn starts kissing his wounds. He leans his head back in the sand, closes his eyes, bites his lower lip and smiles.

"You're way better than that doctor." He's sure that if she was around, he would have been crippled for only one day, rather than two, after killing Mal. On the other hand, perhaps it was best she wasn't there when he was convalescing after his fight with Nina, given the nature of the injuries he sustained. That would have just been too frightening all around.

"I should hope so. Can a doctor do this?" Dawn grabs his wrists, pins Connor's arms to the ground, and starts sucking on the left side of his neck. Connor blissfully sighs and moans.

After dark, Buffy and Angel set out. They end up strolling through a graveyard to the north of the bunker. "This is about a mile from where your house was," Angel realizes.

"We used to go here all the time. Some couples have the malt shop, or wherever. We had Whitehaven Memorial Park." Fortunately, this was a different cemetery from where Spike's crypt was, and Joyce was buried in a third resting place. One of the good things about having so many graveyards in her town is that it helps Buffy avoid uncomfortable juxtapositions.

"I don't know why, but I always felt safe here," Angel mentions out of nowhere.

"Me too," Buffy quickly concurs, surprising herself.

"The really tough battles never took place on hallowed ground."

"It was like our practice field."

"I'm sorry I never took you somewhere a little more upbeat," Angel confesses. "Or a tad less morbid."

"We did go to the movies that one time." They both remember the movie and wince. "Which, in retrospect, made graveyards seem positively G-rated by comparison."

"And I did take you ice skating." He pauses. "Which, if I recall, was interrupted by an assassin from the Order of Taraka."

"It's the Hellmouth."

"Maybe if there had been an amusement park. A nice long ride on a Ferris Wheel could have been nice."

"Knowing our luck, the vampires would have stopped it when we were at the top and started attacking everyone in sight."

"You're right. Graveyards were the safest place to go on a date in this town."

"All the demons inside them were rookies. God I miss those days."

"Demons with eons of experience can be such a hassle." They both laugh knowingly, embracing the inherent weirdness of their love.

"It's funny. The last person to take me to a cemetery was Kate." A startled Angel practically jumps out of his clothes. He preferred the inherent, ingrained weirdness, not the layers of subsequent, far more disturbing weirdness that had accumulated over the years.

"Why was she . . . why were you . . . what was she doing here?," he stammers.

"Long, boring, demon-free story. But it was nice. In a very, very, VERY different way than being with you is." Angel should hope so. "She was amazingly sympathetic. And very comforting. We talked about my mom, and her mom, and her father. See, her mom died when she was seven, and her dad was killed by vampires a few years back. I don't mean to bore you with details about someone you've never even met." So Buffy hadn't remembered her brief, tense encounter in Los Angeles with Kate three years back. That was good. "I guess occasionally it's nice to be able to bond with someone who doesn't know all your deep, dark, icky secrets." Bond? Buffy and Kate? Oh dear. "Okay. I see you're in the early stages of a minor wig-out. If it makes you feel any better, I think Kate's heard about you. She told Spike that she thought the vampire with a soul was tall, dark and handsome, and he didn't fit the profile." Angel smiles. Good for Kate. Great for Kate. Three cheers for Kate. "I think she was just trying to be mean." No she wasn't!, Angel thinks to himself. Kate was telling it like it is. "Anyway, Willow and Kennedy thinks the lady cop's not exactly into men, if you know what I mean."

"On what grounds?," an outraged Angel demands to know. "That sounds very presumptuous of them."

"That's what I thought. She told me she has trouble meeting nice men in her line of work, which I can understand. Not that you're not nice. But us, that's the sort of once-in-one-lifetime thing that never happens to anybody else." They share a long, awkward pause. Is she saying they're destined to be together? Is she sending him some sort of signal? Angel can't come up with a safe, risk-free response. Buffy looks around. "I suppose this was the time when a vampire would usually jump out of nowhere and attack us," she quips to relieve the tension.

Behind what's left of a row of mausoleums two hundred feet away, Nina materializes. She spins round and glares at Darla, even more mad than before. "This better be good! I was about about to break that Beyonce tramp off something fierce. Dumb bitch thinks I'm trying to steal her bullfrog-lookin' boyfriend. Like I gotta stoop to conquer his ugly ass. Then she gets all up in my face, acting all ghetto. Who's she foolin'? I'm as dark as she is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go rock a much hotter brother's world." She laughs. "Handsome AND funny. Talks about how getting shot with bullets nine times makes him tough. I love sarcasm." She chuckles some more, having absorbed hundreds of direct hits from firearms without so much as chipping a nail. "He'll never think of women in quite the same way after I'm done with him. I just gotta get rid of his annoying blonde buddy who keeps hitting on me. By the way, what's an Oscar, and why should having him impress me?"

Darla just smiles serenely at Nina's ramblings. "I see you're one of those the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice' ladies," she comments on Nina's taste in men. Nina doesn't get the metaphor. Besides, it's not entirely true. Nina also has the hots for Giles.

"Why am I here?," she asks impatiently.

"Take a look." Nina's jaw drops.

"No. No. It can't be. Is this a joke?"

"I wish," Darla answers mournfully.

"You know, that's a little sick. His son is with her sister."

"Believe me, Nina. That's the LEAST of the reasons those two should not be together."

"Mal said Angel was too good for Buffy."

"He did!," Darla exclaims gleefully. "What a sweetie. What a wonderfully observant, insightful, right-on-the-money sweetie pie. Have I mentioned how much it pains me that he's no longer with us? I would have loved to hear him list the reasons Buffy was hopelessly unworthy of Angel's affections." Nina looks curiously at Darla. Why did this excite her so? Who was this person the First had chosen to take the form of? After a few seconds, Nina shrugs. It's probably nothing. Just a reflection of how much the First loathes its perky, persistent, seemingly unsinkable enemy.

"Why didn't you inform me of this connection earlier? It could have justified Mal helping me dispatch the Dark Avenger and his androgynous Sulky Boy sidekick. On the grounds that their deaths would have demoralized my adversary. I thought Mal's fight and my fight had nothing in common. And you LET me think that!"

"Because they don't," Darla snaps back at Nina, who's about to explode with rage. "They never did. Angel's fate and Buffy's fate are not entwined."

"They look pretty damn entwined to me!"

"At one time, yes," Darla painfully concedes. "But they've been unraveling for years. Now they are completely unconnected. What you're witnessing is a rerun." Darla realizes Nina might not know what those are. "A replay. Like the deeds of mythical ancestors your people used to re-enact for amusement and edification."

"Those were myths!!? What do you mean those were myths!?" It was like telling Alexander the Great that Heracles and Achilles were only figments of a few clever writers' imaginations after he'd spent his entire life believing he was a direct descendant of both of them, and that was where his phenomenal warrior abilities came from. In other words, a thousand times worse than telling a five year-old Christian boy that Santa Claus doesn't exist.

"I'm sorry, Nina. My mistake. I meant to say legendary ancestors," Darla condescendingly assures Nina. Best not to toy with the confidence of her star fighter, upon whom everything now depended. "Their true deeds were so incredible that many wrongly assumed they had to be myths. It was a slip of the tongue. I've spent too much time over the epochs around lying, deceitful, foolish gods who have filled my mind with their ridiculous heresies." She smiles and rubs Nina's back to assure her and calm her down, as a mother would with a child.

"Gods are stupid meanies."

"That's right, honey." Sometimes, the First was amazed at how deftly it could manipulate and shift Nina's personality. Almost as suddenly as she regressed, Nina returns to her mature, battle-hardened, cold-blooded self. She folds her arms and stares intently at Buffy and Angel.

"Those two seriously need a good lay," she comments. "I could cut the tension with my thumb. Of course, I could also cut through every bone in their hormone-infested bodies with my thumb," Nina adds with a cocky grin.

"Now that's my girl," Darla responds. Nina's head was back in the game.

"She cries. He cries. To hurt him, I don't even have to hurt him."

"Only her," Darla whispers into Nina's right ear.

"Cool. Good to know. Now can I get back to my party?"

"By all means. They're not the only ones who need a good lay."

"Or three. He is a mere mortal. I've got my eye on a few other studs. The night is still young." She vanishes.

"That it is," Darla says as she makes a quick final glance at her least favorite couple. "That it is." And she's gone.

"You're not getting what you came here for," Buffy flatly declares.

"What do think I came here for?," he defensively replies, fearful that she's assuming he came for a smooch-and-grope.

"I think we both know the answer to that." Angel declines to comment. After a few seconds, Buffy sighs and finishes her thought. She thinks Angel's being unnecessarily coy. "You want to help. To fight by my side tomorrow."

"I don't have any other plans," he responds nonchalantly.

"Well I do. And they involve you staying in Los Angeles."

"Why? Besides any worries about me stepping on your toes. No need. I've worked for you before. I know who runs the show in this town. Or is it a fear of tension between myself and Spike? Not an issue. Once we're battling for our lives against Nina and who knows what else, all our past differences will go out the window."

"I don't need your help."

"I know. Believe me, I know. But maybe someone else in that bunker might."

"We can't win by protecting each other. To make it out of there, we'll need to go on the offensive. And we can do that. You know why? Because everyone in that bunker has fought side-by-side for months. They trust each other. They know what to do without thinking or asking. You and your friends, you'll only sow confusion. It's just like if a few of them came to LA to help you guys out. They'd only get in the way. And possibly get themselves killed."

"We know what you're up against. And we know how to fight it."

"No you don't!"

"We've faced Nina!!"

"And gotten your asses kicked. We've faced Nina a lot more. And come out a lot better. The Potentials, Willow, Giles, they've gotten past the fear and intimidation. Have you?"

"What part of maximizing your forces at the moment of greatest danger don't you understand?," an exasperated Angel wants to know.

"You can't kill her. Your friends can't. Connor sure as hell can't. What use are you to me? I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound harsh. But didn't you just tell me that Faith and I would have been of no use against Mal? He came for you and Connor. That made it your fight. Well Nina's come for us."

"Mal didn't have a supporting cast. From what I've heard, all indications are that Nina will."

"Okay. Let's say I take you on to help with the uber-vamps. Nina's still there. And she doesn't have any silly rules about killing her enemies slowly, or not taking out people who aren't her primary targets. To her, everyone in the arena will be fair game. She'll kill your friends in a heartbeat. If she wants to, I can't stop her. And neither can you. It's all one fight. Not your gang versus the demons, and mine versus the Titan."

"She could have killed us. But she didn't."

"Because you weren't in Sunnydale! Besides, she could have killed Anya. She could have killed Willow. She could have killed Kennedy. She could have killed Spike. Or Faith. Or me. But she didn't. Because the time wasn't right. Come tomorrow, she's through procrastinating. It's her last chance."

"Nina had to know about our connection. The First must have told her. Maybe she, or it, didn't think we'd come down here. Maybe they didn't think we'd be of any use to you. That's how we win. Wait for the other side to underestimate us, and exploit that blind spot. Hit 'em from where they least expect it. That's how we slayed Mal. It's how you'll destroy Nina."

"I know. And get a load of who she's been making a real show of underestimating ever since she showed up in this town. Me. That's right. Don't ask me why. But I'm the one she doesn't worry about."

"Maybe that's what they want you to think. The First Evil knows your track record all too well. The best way to get under the skin of the other team's star is to pretend that the star is nothing special. You're used to the bad guys obsessing over you. You expect them to. I know that if my enemy and my friends' enemy acted like I wasn't anything special, it would drive me up the wall."

"In case you haven't noticed, the First might be devious, but not that devious. They're not much for the misdirection."

"When they're recruiting, perhaps. But Buffy, those were just the prelims. The forelorn hope. Every army dreams of destroying their enemy from the inside. It never works. Take the Napoleonic Wars. For fifteen years, the British tried to win the easy way, by trying to sow rebellion and betrayal among their enemy's friends and allies. It didn't work. France just kept getting stronger and stronger. Finally, the English, AND THEIR ALLIES, got off their asses and fought. That's how they beat Napoleon. That's how all great wars are won. People with a common interest stand together and defeat the enemy on the field of battle. This Trojan Horse, Fifth Column nonsense you've all been obsessed about is just that. Nonsense. A distraction. Something to give you a false sense of security and make you underestimate your enemy. Making Spike kill. Trying to goad Willow into flailing away. Whatever the Hell they've been up to with that Andrew chump. They're just feints. Deep down, from day one, the First has wanted to kill you, and everyone else, fair and square. The only way to take down an enemy like that is to come out with ALL your guns blazing, and hold NOTHING back. My friends know the risks. They also know that it's better to die and help you win than sit back, let you lose, and live in whatever Hell will follow."

"So let me get this straight," Buffy begins, ready to deflate his grand rhetoric. "The First is the English. But then they're Napoleon. I'm confused."

"You know what I meant," a frustrated Angel shoots back.

"I do. I also know that I've always won by sticking with the team that's brought me here. Not by adding on a couple ringers in the closing minutes."

"One of those victories proved to be rather Pyrrhic."

Buffy thinks about this. She's not acquainted with the history of the Epirote warlord. But she has heard the word used in other contexts. So it doesn't take her long to realize what he's getting at. And she doesn't like it one bit. He can see that on her face. "I thought you'd know better than to ever bring that up."

"Could things have turned out different if I had been there?"

"I suppose we could have lost," she replies drolly, avoiding the question. When Angel doesn't respond right away, she tries to confront it slightly less obliquely. "This is a completely different tactical situation," Buffy explains clinically, trying her best to keep emotions out of this very raw subject. "There were two separate fields of engagement. Two independent objectives. This battle's fought on a single front. No hostages. No additional pre-occupations. (Buffy's clinical way of alluding to Tara's mental state.) It's a much simpler battle. Tactically speaking. You're comparing apples and potatoes, Angel. Don't do that. Don't waste my time with stupid analogies."

He realizes line of inquiry was too personal, and refines it. "What's if it's not you? What if it's Faith?"

"Then it's probably over. Didn't Giles fill you in on the rules? I'm watching out for her. We all are. And, by the way, she's the only one who can use the only weapon we know of that can hurt Nina. So Faith's as well-protected as they come."

"What about Rupert? Or Dawn? If you send us packing, and she dies, do you think Connor will EVER forgive you? And trust me, you do not want him coming after you to avenge someone's death."

"I have practically BEGGED her to go back with you tonight to Los Angeles. But she refused. Before you leave, tell that to Connor. Let him beg her. And if she still says no, well, then we've both failed."

"Okay. Let's take you, Faith and Dawn out of the picture. What about everyone else? Assume you win. At what cost? Now, say that our presence could lower that cost. At the very least, we can save people you love. How much would a victory be worth to you if Xander dies?"

For the first time since they got on the topic of whether Angel should stay or go, Buffy manages a laugh. "You care about Xander?"

"Not especially. But you do. And Willow does. And that's enough to make me risk my life to save his. That, and the fact that my quest for redemption requires me to try and rescue any and all humans I possibly can. Let me worry about my friends, and the risks they'll be taking."

"I am. All I care about is winning, and making sure everyone who depends on me gets out alive. You can't help with the first goal. Which means you can't help with the second. Nina will cut you down. I'll say this for her, she knows how to taunt. And what better way to say Na-na, na-na-na' that to kill my reinforcements the moment she sees them. Her favorite schtick is to convince me that I can't protect my troops. That and nothing I, or anyone else tries, will put a dent into her. Oh look! Here are five more ways I can prove that coming to Buffy's aide will only get you killed.' You staying will only whet her appetite."

"You mean like when the Mayor saw you with Faith's knife?"

"That's not even close."

"Or when I didn't think Spike could walk? And assumed the Gypsy Spell was lost forever?"

"You're not even on the map anymore."

"Or when the Master thought he had finished you off?"

"You're really grasping."

"No I'm not, Buffy. The bad guys will always underestimate their enemies. Why play into that? Why make the same faulty assumptions that they do?"

"Because they're MY assumptions. And they're not faulty."

NEXT: Things between Angel and Buffy heat up as they get less verbal and more physical. Things between Connor and Dawn cool down as they get less physical and more verbal. And Wes, Gunn and Fred try to bond with the Scoobies while Spike seethes.


	68. What a work is woman

Angel's thrown off-guard by Buffy's erratic behavior, and Connor is mystified by a fateful decision Dawn has made. Meanwhile, Groo proves his worth in an epic duel that wins him a kingdom and the girl. Also, Darla tries to rattle Angel with some unsettling news and analysis.

"It's not that I don't get where you're coming from," Buffy assures Angel. "If I was in your place, if you were in grave danger when I had some free time on my hands, I'd be there. But tell me you wouldn't react the way I have if you were in my place."

"That's because you're stronger than me. You've done more. You'd threaten my position of leadership. But you don't have to worry about that."

"I only have to worry about you getting yourself killed in an act of selfless bravery."

"Then you must be worried all the time," Angel jokes. Buffy smiles.

"Angel, I'm glad you're here. I'd have been disappointed if you didn't come."

"And I'd have been surprised if you welcomed my help right away. That's not why I came. Not the main reason. I needed to see you. I couldn't pass up a chance to be near you again. To remind myself what I feel like when I'm with you. You send me - "

"Don't bother explaining," Buffy interjects. "I feel it too." It's a good think she interrupted, because Angel didn't know where to go from this stray Sam Cooke lyric. "I always tell myself that it's harder to be with you that away from you. But now that I'm with you, I'm not so sure." Buffy steps forward about a foot. Angel leans forward a foot. Buffy leans forward another foot and kisses him. After a brief pause, he kisses her back. Then they pull each other close and start going at it like old times.

The Groosalug enters the hill fort of Koneg to fight King Sigvard. His kinsmen laugh. The King's opponent looks strong, but not nearly strong enough for the task. Also watching are sixty of the besieging army's officers, serving as hostages to protect against a surprise attack. Sigvard steps forward. He is six feet eight inches tall, two hundred and sixty pounds of pure muscle. Arms like tree trunks. A neck like an even thicker tree trunk. A barrel chest. Long red hair. Pale, beady blue eyes. And a bushy red beard. He is shirtless, wearing black boots and tight brown leather pants, with a purple cape flowing down his back, secured by a gold chain in front. A servant removes the cape, and Sig grabs his sword out of the ground and raises it high over his head, turning round slowly so all his tribesmen can see. They roar with confidence. Groo's never seen a man with back hair. The giant sure is furry. Sigvard looks to him like the product of an unholy union between a human and a bear. Groo betrays no emotion as the three thousand tribesmen chant and sing in an attempt to rattle and intimidate him.

"If he loses, do we die?," Memnon asks Panthesilea.

"They promised to let us leave their country in peace."

"What's to keep them from slaughtering us and selling our men into slavery? We're not holding any cards."

"Yes we are. They know that if they slaughter us, our peoples will send an even larger army in the Spring to annihilate their nation."

"Honestly, if I were them, if I was on the receiving end of an unprovoked invasion by an army that killed thousands of my men and tried to take away my freedom, I wouldn't be quite so generous."

"Then again, our proxy warrior could triumph."

"Here's hoping we get lucky on this campaign one last time." They bang wooden mugs and down the homemade beer their hosts provided them with. Memnon gets a sour look on his face. "How can people drink this stuff?"

"They are barbarians," Panthesilea whispers into his ear. He nods.

"Only the ignorant could stomach this swill."

"Spike liked it," she reminds him.

"He also drank blood." His odd tastes in beverages was the one thing Memnon, Penny and the other Spike worshippers didn't emulate.

Groo picks up his sword. It's odd fighting with such an excessively large and unwieldy weapon, more than twice the weight of any previous sword he had used. He assumes the Furry Bear Man wins primarily by forcing his opponents to handle such an unfamiliar weapon. Not exactly fair and honorable by Groo's standards. Sigvard growls, charges and swings. Groo blocks it with his blade. The impact knocks him back a step. Sig keeps hacking away, driving Groo back. The weight of the blows would quickly tire a normal man. Sig swings for the neck. Groo ducks and gets behind his opponent, who turns in time to parries Groo's thrust. He kicks Groo in the chest and resumes the offensive, furiously stabbing and slashing, preventing Groo from doing anything but defend and retreat. He doesn't even have time to think. This will soon tire Sigvard, but he expects to win before than happens. Groo fails to notice that he is running out of room until he is four feet from the edge of the cliff at the back end of the fort. The two men lock swords in a test of strength. Groo's realization of his location distracts him for an instant, and with a mighty grunt Sigvard pushes him over the edge. Groo drops his sword and tries to grab onto the edge, but fails out of view. The cliff is perpendicular to the ground sixty feet below. The tribesmen stand up and cheer. Sigvard holds up both swords and crosses them above his head as he walks his victory lap. Memnon puts his head in his hands. Panthesilea stares straight ahead, not quite accepting that Groo has lost. She really believed in him. Her campaign was now a failure. The first failed campaign by any of the armies launched since Angel and Spike left. This was definitely going to hurt her political standing back home. It felt like the end of the world.

But Groo grabbed onto the side of the cliff forty feet down. His chest slammed into the rocks. The impact with the jagged rock face cut up his arms and legs. And he struggle to regain his breath, feeling like he had just been run over by a Rhinoceros. But he was very much alive. Groo hugs the cliff face for a minute, recovering from the impact. He hears the thousands of men celebrating his death. Just what he needed for motivation. It takes him another minute to make it back to the summit. By then, Panthesilea and Memnon have stood up, and are preparing to swallow their pride and beg for mercy. Then Groo forces his way through a crowd of enemies. When they see him, they part, getting out his way. It's like seeing a ghost. The raucous crowd gets quiet very quickly. Memnon and Penny can't believe their eyes. She nearly faints, the first time that had ever come even remotely close to happening. He looks pretty bang-up, but he's on his feet, which to everyone there is an absolute miracle. Once Groo catches sight of Sigvard's face, he knows the fight is his. On the one hand, it's a great letdown to find out that the man you just killed isn't really dead. On the other, it's horribly intimidating when you discover that the man you're fighting to the death can survive a sixty foot fall. (Actually, forty, but that's still dispiriting.) Groo picks up his sword, ready to resume fighting before Sigvard can recover from the shock. The King quickly grabs his weapon, and they circle one another. The spectators is on their feet, but remain completely silent. Groo patiently waits for Sigvard to attack, blocks the attempt and counterattacks. Sensing his advantage, Groo attacks with as much intensity as his opponent did at the beginning of the fight. Sigvard retreats. He strains to block Groo's well-placed thrusts, and only manages two wild swings in response, the first one Groo blocks, the second one he ducks. Sweat pours down into Sigvard's eyes. His shoulders and thighs are burning from his frantic attempts to hold his ground against this man who fights like no man. He doesn't let up. He doesn't seem to tire or weaken. The normal rules don't appear to apply to him. Now Sigvard thinks HE'S the one who's being hustled.

They lock swords and spin them around as Groo wears his opponent down, tests his reflexes and waits for an opening. He kicks Sig in the chest with his right foot, knocking him ten feet through the air and putting the giant on his back. Before he can get up, Groo's standing over him, swinging away. Sigvard holds his sword up and blocks three slashes, only to get stabbed in the left side of his abdomen, just below the rib cage. In his rage, Groo drives the sword one foot into the dirt, impaling Sigvard. His kinsmen gasp in horror. The six inch-wide, two inch-thick blade leaves a gaping, nearly always mortal wound. When Groo pulls the blade out, Sigvard screams as he sits up and swings for Groo's knees. Caught by surprise, he leaps backwards and upwards just in time to avoid losing a foot, but gets badly sliced in the front of his left leg, three inches above his ankle. The strike from the tip of his enemy's sword completely tears the muscle that runs up the tibia and leaves a stress fracture on the bone itself. The wound bleeds badly, giving the natives hope as their King very slowly stands up. They raise their voices, cheering him on. To the old men and the bards, this fight has taken on a mythic quality. It is a duel more-than-worthy of their greatest Heroes and Gods. Groo stumbles towards Sigvard, blocks his desperate slash and stabs for the heart. Sig rushes three steps backwards out of the way. Before the wounded giant can steady himself, Groo steps forward, spins round and drives his sword down through Sigvard's left collarbone and diagonally across his chest, through his ribs and heart, before pulling it up out of the man who two minutes earlier was celebrating his victory. Sigvard falls on his back, dead, his eyes wide-open, as if he still can't believe it.

Groo puts the point of the sword in the ground and leans on it like a cane, taking the weight off his injured left leg. No one makes a sound. They walk towards Sigvard's body to get a look and confirm for themselves that what they just witnessed really did happen. The invaders submerge their glee for fear of inciting the natives to butcher them. Most of them rush back down to their troops, who soon let up a roar when they hear the good news. A well-dressed native picks up the King's iron crown and gets down on his right knee, bowing and holding it out to Groo. Four other princes also bow, making sure to not gaze upon the Groosalug until he has accepted their offer and ordered them to get up. Still recovering from his epic battle, Groo has no idea what they're doing. He makes no response. After ten seconds, Memnon walks over and puts his right arm around Groo's shoulders. "They want you to be their king, champ."

"But I am not one of them. I am not even one of this world. I do not speak their language. I have no knowledge of their customs."

"They don't seem to care. So why should you?" Groo smiles. Well, grimaces. He's still in a lot of pain. He likes to idea of being a King again. And in this world he doesn't need to worry about the thorny problem of demon-human relations. On Pylea, he was a half-breed: inferior to some, a freak to others. On Earth, he was a curiosity. On Scyra, he is somewhere between hero and demigod.

"You may rise. Your offer honors me deeply, and I will accept it." They don't understand. Panthesilea translates, and they quickly stand. Groo lowers his head so the prince can place the crown on. He mutters something in his native tongue. The other princes yell out a few words. The rest of the tribe echoes them. Priests rush up to tend his wounds, anoint his forehead with oil, and tend to his every need. Memnon walks away. Like Kreon and Hiero, he's grateful that the new arrival wants to preside over a poor, primitive backwater from where he'll pose no threat to their power.

"He has to stay here for the winter, and I get to go home to my wife and children. It just doesn't get any better," Memnon announces as his briskly walks down to his men.

"Oh, I think it can," Panthesilea replies with a smile as she gazes over her shoulder at Groo while slowly strolling away. In two months, she had conquered twenty thousand square miles and two hundred thousand people at the cost of only slightly over one thousand lives and a pittance in gold and silver. Tonight, Panthesilea will be in the mood to celebrate her achievement. And who better to help with that than the man who delivered the knockout blow?

After about one minute of tongue-wrestling, Buffy pushes Angel back. She looks distressed. "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

"Because of Spike."

"No," Buffy reflexively disagrees before taking a few seconds to pace back-and-forth and figure out why Angel could be wrong. "Because of us. Because there is no us. This is pointless. It leads nowhere."

"You've known that for years. You certainly knew it a minute ago when you kissed me."

Buffy's frustrated by his incisiveness. "What is it that you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything. It's my fault. I thought Spike and you weren't together. You weren't acting like a couple back at your bunker."

"What I have – or don't have – with Spike is none of your business."

"It is if I read the situation wrong and tempt you into doing something you'll feel guilty for."

"You're reading way to much into this. I just don't want to play an encore of our greatest almost hits."

"And Spike's okay with this arrangement?" Now she's getting angry.

"What arrangement? And what part of None Of Your Business' don't you understand? I thought he would be the LAST thing you'd want to talk about."

"You're right. I don't care about him. But I care about the safety of the people he's rooming with. Spike doesn't take disappointment very well. And he's not the sort to go searching for a soul to win the merely Platonic love of the woman he pines after more than anything in the world. Spike may have certain expectations. When he founds out you don't share them - "

"It's all about sex for you. Life, death, souls. All about sex." Buffy laughs. She feels inspired to lash back. "Maybe if you did it more often, you'd realize there's more to life than screwing."

"It's not that I blame you for using him. Times like these, you need all the help you can get. The tricky part is to make sure he's not let down until after the apocalypse." Buffy hits his left eye with her right fist.

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

"Come on, Buffy. You're too smart to try and play dumb."

"You think I'm using him? How dare you!"

"I think you're trying to help him."

"I love Spike. And you have no right to come here and tell me I don't."

"Then why did you kiss me?"

"Nostalgia," she witheringly replies. "And why the twenty questions, Angel? Do I quiz you about Cordelia? Or Darla?" Her face looks especially bitter when Buffy speaks that last name.

"Because they never kept me away from you. Anything I did, everything I felt, for anyone else, while we were apart, was because we were apart. But none of that ever changed how I felt about you," he maintains as he slowly and carefully walks closer to Buffy.

"You think MY feelings have changed? Angel, you should know me better than that by now."

"Sometimes I wonder how well we really know each other anymore," Angel laments, alluding to him becoming a father and Buffy sleeping with Spike, neither of which the other one could have ever anticipated.

"Since when did that matter?," Buffy responds, confusing Angel somewhat. "Since when did familiarity have anything to do with love." He pulls her close. They passionately kiss again for about fifteen seconds before Buffy pushes Angel away for a second time. "I can't. I just can't . . . this is wrong."

"Sounds like you do this you're cheating on someone," Angel concludes.

"Shut up. He's not the problem. You are."

"I'm sorry Buffy. I don't mean to make a big deal about this. I just want to know where I stand with you."

"We're not dating."

"Which we?," Angel asks, genuinely unsure. "No, you mean both of us. Which I already knew. After all, you've lived with Spike for months, and I can't even smell him on you," Angel casually says to himself.

Unaccountably, this changes everything. Buffy leaps at Angel and puts him on his back with a right hook to the jaw. She leans down grabs his shirt with her right hand to pull Angel up towards her. "Spike loves me," Buffy says, hitting Angel in the right eye with her left fist. "I love him," she adds before landing another left hook to the eye. "End of story," she declares, pounding Angel's eye with two more left hooks before letting go of his shirt and walking away. Angel lies there, dazed both by the beating and by Buffy's sudden, violent explosion. Angel knew she had punished him out of guilt, because she knew what he said was true. Now was not the time for telling uncomfortable truths.

Connor and Dawn lie next to each other, kissing. Connor leans his head back, groans slowly, lies on his back and smiles. Dawn zips his pants back up. Connor breathing gradually slows down. Dawn lies on her back just to Connor's right, their shoulders touching, her left calf on top of his right shin. She puts her left hand on his heart. He puts his right hand on her stomach. They lean their heads to look at each other.

"Thanks for seconds," Connor says with big, goofy grin. "Never can stop at just one when it comes to you."

"It was only fair to reciprocate," Dawn replies with a smile. Connor slides his right hand down her pants. Dawn grabs his right forearm with her right hand and pulls his hand back up. "That's okay. We should stop now. Otherwise this could go on all night."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Connor comments with raised eyebrows.

"On most nights, no," Dawn replies, giving Connor a quick kiss on the lips. He kisses her back. "But tonight isn't most nights." This almost prompts Connor to express his fears. But he decides against it. After a few seconds, they both stare up at the stars.

"Hard to see these in LA."

"You may not have constellations, but you do have undestroyed buildings. There's always a trade-off," Dawn jokes. Connor slowly rubs her stomach with his right hand.

"Not anymore. Now I don't have to choose between my home and my girl."

"That's right. Guess we'll all have to stay with you and Angel once this thing's over. Where else can we go?"

"What about before that?"

"There's not much before that' time left."

"So I'm staying here with you tonight?" This surprises Dawn.

"Umm, Amanda might mind. I certainly hope she would. Buffy would mind, too. Even though her rooms on the other side of the bunker. And wouldn't Angel mind if you didn't come home with him?" Connor wasn't expecting this.

"I thought we were all staying."

"That's not what Buffy said."

"Why? Cause she doesn't want to share the glory?"

Dawn sits up. "Connor that's ridiculous. If anything, she doesn't want to share the body count. This is a Hellmouth thing. Which means it's a Slayer thing, and a Sunnydale thing. Which one of those applies to you?"

"She said this?"

"She was dead set against the idea from the moment Angel and called and said he was coming."

Connor sits up. "Okay. So we can both go back to LA."

Connor and Buffy on the same wavelength? Now that's worrisome. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What? Why not? Don't you wanna be with me?" Dawn stands up and starts walking away. Connor quickly leaps to his feet and follows.

"I can't believe you don't understand. You're supposed to be the ONE who understands."

"I understand Nina. How strong she is. How much she wants to pay me back for Mal." Dawn spins around. Connor stops.

"I think she's a little too focused on destroying the world to waste her time settling scores. Anyway, she was with that vampire for only one day. Two days tops. How attached could she have become?" Sort of hypocritical, since Connor and Dawn only spent three nights together.

"You belong with me."

"I know. But not yet."

"What if you don't make it to Yet? You expect me to let you die and do nothing to help?"

"When did you get so obsessed with protecting me? You used to be the one who believed in me. Now you're sounding just like Buffy." Dawn knew how much this would hurt Connor.

"I believe in you. I want you to fight. With me. I need you, Dawn. Buffy doesn't." She scowls and slaps the left side of his face with her right hand. Connor and his dad are being reminded tonight that the Summers women don't just argue with their mouths when they believe their honor has been impuned. They're also learning that neither of them understands the woman they love as well as they thought.

"Do I insult you?," Dawn responds, her eyes welling up with tears. "Do I call you worthless?"

"What? You're worth, like, everything to me."

"And so I don't matter to anyone else?"

"No."

"But you want to take me away from my family. My friends."

"No."

"That's exactly what would happen if I went home with you."

"Wouldn't you do the same to be with me? Cause I'd want you to. I'd give up my family, my friends, everything, anything, if I had to so we could be together. Isn't that what it means to be in love?"

"In Shakespeare. Or Titanic.' But this is real life. And besides, even in make believe, it never works out. Someone always dies in the end."

"Dawn, that's what I'm trying to stop. You're with me, you don't die."

"But I'm also not happy. Connor, you don't want the me that runs away."

"I also don't want the you that's dead."

"Well that's a risk I have to take, and you have to accept that."

"I can't stay?"

"And let Nina turn you again into a limping bruise?"

"If she's hurting me, she's not hurting anyone else."

"I think Spike would get jealous if someone usurped his position as Punching Bag-in-Chief," Dawn jokes, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

"You know why I fight? Not to help people. Not to fight evil, or make the world a better place. That's my dad's thing. I fight to protect the people I love. And that's the one kinda fight I won't back down from."

"Connor, the last thing I need is you wanting to die to save me. Because Nina would be more than happy to oblige. And then, she'd kill me too. Making your noble gesture kind of pointless."

Connor tries to make sense of this. "We both fight, we both die. You fight, you die. I leave, I live. We both leave, we both live."

"You're wrong about that second point. Nina likes challenges. Especially ones where people with superpowers protect normals and say There's no way you're getting past me.' Buffy stepped between her and the Potentials. She knocked Buffy out and killed Molly and Izora. Willow came out with mystical guns blazing, and Nina gleefully rose to the challenge. But yesterday, when we all cowered in her presence, she let us leave. And these last few days, the Potentials have been out on their own several times. But Nina never showed up to attack them, even though they were defenseless."

"She needs to be provoked?"

"That's what makes it fun for her. Let's face it, when you've been killing for as long as she has, the helpless, screaming victim gets sort of stale. But killing someone who thinks they can beat you, that's always fun."

"Well, yeah," Connor haltingly agrees, very uncomfortable about the fact that Dawn has him empathizing with the mortal enemy.

"Buffy said that in the first fight, Nina went off about how much pride they had. Then the next night, she told Buffy about how she likes to hurt Gods because they're all so proud and mighty. She doesn't eat. Or drink. Her body doesn't need food. But her spirit does. Nina feeds off pride. And between Buffy's pride and Faith's pride and Spike's pride and Willow's pride, she'll have so much to try and feast on that I won't even be on her menu."

"What about my pride?"

"You won't be there."

"She knows she can hurt me by killing you."

"Killing me but losing the battle doesn't do her any good. I'm sure she'll trying to get her vengeance, but only after all the powerful people are dead. And in that case, the world's doomed anyway, so you won't have very long to mourn. Look on the bright side." If Dawn is dead, the world is over. If the world survives, so does Dawn. Connor likes that logic, though his utter lack of schooling means that he doesn't know that the Law of the Contrapositive only holds if the initial statement can be proven to be true.

"What about the other demons? Those uber-vamps I hear about."

"I can handle myself in a fight. You knew that even before you knew that." She's referring to the fact that he had her fighting a vamp solo before he had even seen her kill one. Connor slowly grins. The thought of Dawn fighting has always been a turn-on for him.

"And I won't ever forget it. But stuff happens. One could get behind you while you were dusting another one. And what if Nina wants to make sure she avenges Mal even if she doesn't win, and goes after you at the start?"

"Do you think I don't worry about YOUR safety every single day? Being apart isn't easy for me, either. You still haven't told me how close Mal came to killing you."

"I couldn't stand up. I was bleeding everywhere, inside and out. If the stone I threw missed, I would have been dead. Angel too. He was also a goner." Connor likes to point out that he saved Angel's life. Angel also saved his, but that had happened many times before. For once, he owed Connor, and this was something Connor was proud of.

"So I could stand here all night spewing What Ifs?' about that fight. Our lives are dangerous. There are a lot of close calls. But that's no reason to run away."

"I want all of our close calls to be together." Dawn laughs at his violent quirky sense of romance.

"They will." Connor smiles. "But first I have to make it through this." Part of Connor's difficulty in understanding Dawn comes from his rootlessness, his lack of loyalty to a particular place or to others who call that place home. His loyalties have always been to people, usually one person. First Holtz, then Cordy, then Dawn.

"You know I always think you're right."

"That is what a man's supposed to do when he loves a woman," she responds jokingly, though in her world this is sometimes the literal truth, especially when Buffy's the woman in question.

"This is the one time it's hard for me to do that."

"These things are never easy. You have to believe in me. You have to trust my judgement. Everything will be okay."

"I want to, Dawn. I do. Usually I like doing what you say. But time it doesn't feel right."

"Well then do something that does." Dawn hugs him. "Shut up and hold me." This command Connor has no problem with. They stand there in silence, holding each other tight, no sounds but the ocean and a light nighttime breeze. As befits the arguments he's made, Connor doesn't want to let go.

Angel stands up and starts walking back to the bunker. Thanks to the pounding Buffy gave him, the areas just below and above his right eye are black and swollen. Darla appears in his path, dressed as she was when Angel came over to sleep with her. "You have to admit one thing: I never had any trouble choosing between you and Spike. Drusilla did, but I always thought that was because she's insane. What's Buffy's excuse?"

"You tried this before. It didn't work on me."

"Don't flatter yourself. You needed divine intervention to come through that one alive. And just so we're clear on this, I don't care about you. If I did, Nina would have killed you. You have no idea how difficult it was to convince her to spare my two darling boys."

"I'm not the buying the impersonation."

"It's much more than that, lover. I have her memories, her personality, her scent." She gets in his face, smiling playfully and seductively. He walks right through her. She reappears in front of him. "That was quick. Usually you like to stay inside me for much longer."

"In case you haven't figured it out by now, you're wasting your time with me," Angel declares as he continues walking. Darla walks beside him on his right.

"This isn't business. It's pleasure. With the two of us, when was it not?"

"The First Evil needs recreation? That's pathetic. So much for your mystique."

"I can't spend all my time corrupting people's souls. Anyway, in this world, I don't need to. Humans are perfectly capable of corrupting themselves. And the uncorrupted just keep making mistake after mistake. Like Buffy choosing Spike over you. She actually believes he has what it takes to save the day. That could prove to be her last mistake."

"I see that one of the advantages of being incorporeal is that people can't get rid of you. You're free to annoy to your heart's content. Though that does seem pretty petty for such a powerful entity."

"Or maybe Buffy will die because of your mistake. I suppose you could say you didn't know any better, that you had no idea taking out Mal while Nina was still around would endanger your precious little Mouseketeer. I know how good Mal was. That magnificent man could do things to a woman that make her not care if she's never going to Heaven, because Heaven could never be this good. And then when I'd wake up after passing out from the overload of ecstasy, Mal would entertain me by making the Master weep like a baby and wash Mal's feet with his tears. Never before, and never again, will there be a man who becomes a god."

"Because I killed him, and used your god's bones to decorate my lobby."

"You and Connor. And the two of you only survived because he let you. Mal allowed a hundred chances to kill you pass him by before you even had your first chance to kill him."

"I guess your hero forgot the importance of seizing the moment."

"And for that, Buffy will pay dearly. It took me a hundred years to get over Mal. Almost as long as it took me to get over you."

"You never got over me."

"Not while I was on the earth. But now that I'm with your precious Powers, things are different. Which reminds me: Are you as upset as I am about who Connor gave those Visions to? I keep trying to tell everyone up there why it's wrong, but they won't listen. The men I create have such tragic taste in women. I suppose that's MY curse. Of course, you're also to blame. A Slayer tries to kill you, you give her a hug and warm bed. Your own son makes an honest mistake, and you cast him out. That was your one chance to make him yours. Now he's lost forever. As a child, he was Holtz's. As an adult, he's hers. Where do you fit in, daddy?"

"Maybe you haven't learned this yet, but to hurt a guy's feelings, he has to respect your opinion."

"Or maybe you wanted to blow it with Connor because he was mine. An angry stepson didn't fit into your fantasy of post-Shan-Shu wedded bliss with Buffy. Best to keep your bastard boy, the spawn you created with your evil sire, out of sight. Admit it. You never wanted her to find out about him. Speaking of which, Nina has this funny joke about taking Connor out of the picture by turning him into a normal kid with fake parents and fake memories, a la you know who." She chuckles. "What's wrong, lover? You don't appreciate irony? It's just a joke. Besides, to purchase that kind of spell you'd practically have to mortgage your soul."

"Are you still talking? Because I stopped paying attention a while back. Still blabbing on about Mal?"

"I've figured out how your world works. When I came back, I didn't understand. I still didn't get it when I brought Connor into your world by taking myself out of it. But now I do. Everything that steps between you and your Buffy gets destroyed. Why do you think The Powers That Be tried to ruin Cordelia? Because you two were getting too close. If I had known the rules, maybe I would have acted differently." Darla shakes her head and laughs. "Maybe I would have settled for Lindsey. But I'm happy now. I've found a sweet, funny guy who appreciates me and treats me with respect. You know that I always had a weakness for that charming Irish brogue." Darla smirks and disappears. Angel, who assumes the First spews nothing but lies, forgets about the encounter and continues on his way.


	69. Three is the Loneliest Number

To my one hundred or so regular readers: Thanks for reading, but I would really, really appreciates more comments on what you do and don't like about each chapter. Your feedback is my inducement to keep writing. And the more reviews I get, the more motivated I feel, and the quicker I write new chapters. Sorry for the digression. Now back to the story.

Wesley impresses the Potentials, until Faith shows up and the girls want updates about Lindsey. Buffy and Fred talk about their men and discover, to their mutual horror, how much they have in common. Mal's successors use novel tactics to make mischief back in LA. Angel and Buffy try to explain away the bruises she gave him. And Connor and Dawn find new ways to freak Angel out without even trying.

Back inside the bunker, Wesley tells the Potentials about his adventures in Pylea. Giles, Anya and Willow are having a hard time swallowing Wesley Wyndham the Gunslinging/Swashbuckling Hero, so they try to ignore him. Faith finds it all humorous, both because she knew the old Wes and because this is how the Potentials reacted when she showed up. Seeing the same people twenty four hours-a-day, everyday, for months, the girls have a weakness for novelty. Andrew has a weakness for Wesley. "We're about to assault the enemy's castle at night. They vastly outnumber us, so to have any chance of success, I must set multiple diversions. Meanwhile, inside the citadel is the High Priest, with his finger on the Doomsday Button. If he senses any danger, he will instantly kill every human in the kingdom."

"No he won't!," Anya shouts out. "Those human slaves were that economy's entire store of capital. Destroy them, and the demons would have his head on a platter."

"But if Wesley succeeds, the High Priest loses his head anyway," Andrew argues.

"Which would not overthrow the entire social order," Anya scoffs. "Killing the leader in no way forces the demons to free their human slaves. The demons would form an army – far larger than Wesley's, I'm sure – and crush his little insurrection."

"What if the humans rise up?," Rona asks.

"Interior lines of communication," Anya quickly responds. "That's how slavery always worked. The masters all know each other, but the slaves are isolated. They can't coordinate their actions. To have any chance of success, they'd need a real army to back them up. Not a handful of rag-tag guerillas."

"It's a good thing you weren't there," Willow quips. "The demons may have won after all."

"You're damn right they would have." Everyone stares at her. "Not that I'd want that to be the outcome. I'm sure I would have helped Wesley strategize. And perhaps distracted the enemy with a campaign of disinformation. Demons can be quite gullible."

"Can I continue with my story?"

"Yes Lancelot," Giles drolly comments. "Do get to the part where you meet King Arthur and Guineivere." He finds these allegorical alternate dimensions set in the distant-but-recognizable past to be quite silly. Outside, Xander demonstrates his catapult to Gunn and Fred, who take turns firing on tree stumps, saplings and whatever else is still standing as a possible target. They turned on their cars and put the high beams on to illuminate the firing range.

"Aw yeah!," Gunn exclaims. "I cut that tree in half. Imagine what it could do to a nice, soft demon."

"Or even one that's soft on the inside but hard on the outside," Fred responds. "This thing's definitely got armor-piercing capability inside of one hundred yards."

"Could have been of some use when those Byzantine knights were chasing us." Fred and Gunn look at Xander. "Long, painful, tragic story. For all concerned."

"I especially like the automatic reload mechanism," Fred notes. "You can arm it without even taking your eyes off the bad guys. But I would like to put in an electric motor."

"So would I," Xander concurs. "If I had one."

"Oh I can build one. Just need a magnet and some wiring. Plus a plug-in so that you can recharge it using a regular old gas generator. Only question is how many times could it fire before the battery ran out."

"What about making it smaller, lighter, more portable?" Gunn suggests.

"Everything here could be miniaturized," Xander eagerly agrees. He loves having people around who care about this stuff.

"That would make it a lot easier to improve the aiming mechanism," Fred adds.

"What about a tripod?," Gunn proposes.

"That's just what I had in mind until I realized it was too heavy!," Xander enthuses. "But with a lighter catapult, it's a viable option.

"What about portability?," Fred wonders. "Sure, you can mount it on a truck, swing it around, take out the demons in the streets. But what if they go inside?"

"It would still be too heavy to carry," Gunn concludes.

"What about wheels?" Gunn and Fred like Xander's suggestion.

"Some sort of cart you could place it on so it could be pushed around," Fred brainstorms.

"Given its wide field of fire, once you get it through the door, the room's yours," Gunn adds.

"All we need now is some sort of cheap, standardized ammunition and spring-loaded magazines to automatically reload. Then it can be worked by a single person," Xander predicts. Fred smiles at him. "What?" It almost looks as if she's got a crush on him, which Xander knows can't be the case. Actually, she likes his mind, which doesn't happen much to Xander.

"Ya got the brain of an engineer."

"Well, I always have liked trains. But I don't think that's a real growth market." Fred laughs. Someone finding Xander funny – now that he's used to. Gunn's starting to worry that Fred's taking a bit too much of a shining to the new guy.

"Not that kind of engineer."

"Ohhh," he responds, playfully feigning realization. "You mean the kind of engineer that requires lots of fancy math. Not my brain."

"There's more to it than equations and tolerances. It's about building things, and havin' an instinct for what works. Thomas Edison didn't even know Calculus. Which was why he couldn't understand Alternating Current. But, then again, you're more mech-e than double-e."

"Calling people by their abbreviations. Reminds me of the time I was in the army."

"You're kidding," Gunn responds.

"I wasn't REALLY in the army. I just thought I was, because that was my Halloween costume. That's how I got hold of that rocket launcher."

"Think you can snag me one of those?," Gunn asks jokingly. As the boys chew the fat, Fred notices Buffy standing alone two hundred feet away. She goes over to talk to her.

"Where's Angel?" Buffy pauses to think of an excuse.

"He wanted to see what was left of the mansion he used to live in. You know him. Always caught up on the past."

"You don't have to lie to me. I know what's wrong. I've been in the same situation." Buffy looks at Fred like she's nuts.

"Do try to explain." She can't wait to here how Fred identifies with a Slayer who's on the eve of leading her troops into a battle where the fate of the entire world is in the balance.

"Two guys. Complete opposites. Both crazy for you. You're afraid that decidin' on one will hurt the other. So ya don't."

"What's Angel been telling you? Did Spike say anything!?"

"Didn't need to. Like I said, I've been there. Kinda still am there."

"Oh. Ohh. You and Wesley?"

"No. No And' between us. Not yet," she adds without thinking.

"Charles I can understand. Wesley, that's just, ick."

"Cause he was your Watcher. That's like a professor, and ya don't wanna ever think of any of them in that way. Ah dunno what he was like back then, but he's changed a lot, hasn't he?"

"So everyone keeps telling me." Buffy pauses to think over Fred's analogy. "So you think Angel and Spike are like – "

"Not individually. But to you they're like . . . what those two are to me."

"Except you haven't slept with Wesley."

"You're gettin' a little too literal, Buffy. Ahm jus' tryin' to say I understand your dilemma. Sometimes more can be less."

"Or nothing at all."

"Tell me about it," Fred replies frustratingly. Then she lowers her voice to a whisper. "Ya ever wish you could have 'em both together." Buffy gasps and steps back.

"Fred! My God! I had no idea." Notice how Buffy doesn't give an answer. Fred realizes to her chagrin that she was misunderstood.

"Oh boy. Oh dear. Ah didn't mean for it to come out like that. What ah meant was, they're different. They got completely different strengths. You might say they compliment each other exactly. If one guy had the good qualities of both of them, he'd be perfect."

"Which two guys are we talking about? Yours, or mine?"

"Well, ah don't know Spike, so, mine. But ahm guessing from what you jus' said that I coulda been talkin' 'bout yours as well. Not that I've ever thought of really tryin' to do it in some horrible, Twilight Zone-esque Be Careful What You Wish For' genetic experiment. People are more than the sum of their qualities. What ah meant was, they each appeal to a different part of your personality. So ya want both of em in your life. But then if you get too close to one, you could lose the other."

"Like how you can't have your cake and eat it too."

"It kinda sucks when that's no longer just a hollow cliche."

"Tell me about it." The two frustrated, confused women realize, to their mutual surprise, that they actually are bonding. Buffy's the last person Fred thought she could do that with, and vice-versa. "But, then again, you can't define yourself by your men. Man."

"Yes. Ah mean, no, you can't. Wait, ah mean, you're right."

"Before you find the person you belong with, you have to take time to find yourself."

"It's demeaning to buy into the notion that, if you're a woman, there's something wrong with you if you're single."

"I have other priorities. Like saving the world."

"Or, saving lives. Guess that's only a matter of degree."

"And if the guys really love you, they'll be willing to wait."

"No they won't."

"What!? Is Angel seeing someone?"

"No. I didn't mean that . . . ah was just talking about my own experience."

"You mean Kelly. To be honest, I never liked her."

"Thanks, but, no need, Buffy. I gave off plenty of signals over a very long period of time to the effect that I didn't see Wesley that way. Can't blame him for not waitin' around for something he didn't think he had a chance of getting."

"But what about Charles? You mean he's also - ?"

"Gwen."

"Gwen . . . electrocuting Gwen!"

"She did actually electrocute him when they first met."

"Guys always go for the girls who can kill them."

"Now she's grounded. Zap-free."

"Really. Has she changed her wardrobe? Because what makes you look like a comic book super-hero when you have special powers makes you look like a hooker when you don't. At least in her case, it would."

"Wow. That's just the sorta thing Cordy woulda said about her."

"Okay . . . " Buffy starts hyperventilating. "Let's not make this conversation a threesome."

"I forgot. You and Cordy had this whole Betty and Veronica thing in high school."

"Huh?"

"You get Scooby Gang, but ya don't get that?" Ironically, this is just what Gwen told Spike.

"Oh. Of course! Now I get it. Betty's the girl who always won whenever they competed for something, right?"

"Yep."

"Cool," Buffy responds with a smile. Then she gets back on topic and looks worried. "You think Angel and Spike will start looking around?"

"Angel's not the type to go out and look. Or, maybe he is, but he's sure not the type to go out, look, then touch. And with this town being deserted and cordoned off by the army, Spike can't find anyone 'till the apocalypse is over."

"So you're saying that there's a down side to defeating the First? I'm kidding, Fred."

"Of course. I knew that. Course, Wesley and Charles didn't start their flings until after our apocalypse was over and Angel got his soul back. A crisis can have a way of freezing everyone's relationships in place, so to speak."

"Really? I though it had a way of bringing people together." Danger has always been the most powerful aphrodisiac in Sunnydale.

"In horror movies, maybe," Fred jokes. "Then again, those couples always get killed right after they hook up. Or during."

"Maybe if you're doing it in public," Buffy jokes back, before recalling some of her trysts with Spike. "If you're at home, the vampires can't get inside you – your house. Inside the building."

"What were we talkin' about again?," Fred asks, considering how they seem to have ventured off on quite a tangent. "That's right. The inherent stalemate of an equilateral love triangle. Too bad that's not a problem I can solve with simple trigonometry. Or even simple Advanced Set Theory."

"Or by killing a big, scary demon," Buffy adds, figuring it would sound witty to highlight her own strengths. "Have you ever thought of combining the two?," Buffy asks jokingly about math and demons.

"Actually, when I was presenting a paper on String Theory, my old professor opened a portal and a tentacled monster tried to pull me into a demon dimension."

"Oh," Buffy comments, not quite sure how to respond to that. She takes a few seconds to mull over the details. "An evil professor tried to kill me at my college, too."

"Interesting. Was your talent a threat to their pride and professional standing?"

"Actually, yes."

"And how did you handle that?"

"Before I had a chance to do anything, she was killed by her demon cyborg."

"Mine didn't have a cyborg," Fred says, not quite knowing how else to reply.

"Nice shot!," they hear Xander yell out.

"Direct hit at two fifty," Gunn announces, referring to yards. Buffy looks in their direction.

"What are they doing?"

"Playin' around with and fine-tunin' Xander's new toy," Fred replies with a smile.

"You mean the gas-powered Bringer mass-murderer? Wouldn't call that a toy. It was fun to watch it in action. Very comforting."

"Weapons can be very comforting sometimes," Fred concurs.

"The last time I had that much fire-power backing me up, well, they were working for the professor who wanted me dead."

"In this business, it can be so hard to find outsiders you can trust." They stand around nervously for a few seconds. "I'm gonna head back inside."

"Good. No, not, good in the sense that your leaving would make me feel better."

"It's okay, Buffy. I know that's not what you meant."

"It was good talking to you, Fred."

"It was. Ah mean, from my point-of-view as well."

"But right now I'd like to have some alone time to think about tomorrow's no-second-chances, everything-on-the-line battle."

"I would too. Have fun. Or, wisdom. Whatever it is you're plannin' on havin'." They go their separate ways. All this empathizing was getting way too weird for two people who had thought they had absolutely nothing in common. Shortly after Fred returns to the living room, Faith steps out of her bedroom.

"Did I miss anything?," Faith asks the Potentials.

"Not really," Ariella responds.

"Unless you're a fan of Wesley's exciting stories," Amanda reports. The first thing that comes to Faith's mind is when she tortured him.

"There's nothing in those stories about me?," she asks him.

"Nothing bad, if that's what you're worried about."

Where's B?"

"Catchin' up with A," Rona explains. Giles notices they're starting to talk like Faith, creating Faith-esque nicknames that even Faith didn't use.

"Didn't you work with Lindsey before Faith came to town?," Andrew asks.

"He provided financial assistance," Wesley answers haltingly. "But Winifred, Gunn and myself did the actual fighting."

"Did he swoop down from the air in that helicopter?," Madari asks.

"Well, yes, actually," Wesley concedes. "It was a bit much. Didn't you think so, Fred?"

"Like an angel descending to earth," Fadila imagines. Rona, Amanda, Madari, Fadila and Ariella swoon at the thought. So does Fred, alarming Wesley.

"Jus' goin' along with the crowd," she nervously explains to Wes, who's upset by the shift in focus. The girls were supposed to be marvelling at his deeds.

"Were you just talking to Lindsey?," Andrew asks Faith.

"Well, yeah. But nothin' dirty, if that's what some of you are thinking."

"We weren't," Wesley replies, look queasy, as i Giles. "Until you mentioned it."

"How is his trial going?," Amanda wonders. Faith smiles and eagerly goes into the details. Wesley sighs and walks away. Giles goes up to him.

"Fame can be fleeting," Giles comments, gently mocking Wesley's dejection. "By the way, with all of you here, who's guarding the castle back home?"

"The hotel itself is protected by a spell." This gives Rupert uncomfortable memories of how Spike and Angel paid for' the spell. Wesley and his friends are still under the impression that only Angel was involved with the Furies. "And if anything happens in Los Angeles, Lorne knows this number. Except for Nina's brief appearance, the city's been quite quiet during the past week. Touch wood."

Mal's organizing of the city's vampires and his teachings about overgrazing had led to a mass exodus, as most of the town's bloodsuckers set out to colonize other cities. Their sky high morale and excellent tactical coordination made it easy to overpower and exterminate the local vamp population. Thought there were always more locals, they were always dispersed, and hence could be taken in detail. Even when they combined forces to fight the invaders, they lacked leadership, organization and discipline. Mal's logic was simple and compelling: if twenty five colonizers slay seventy five dispersed locals (most of whom won't be very good fighters anyway), and each of them eats twice as much as each of the locals did, this produces only two-thirds the deaths. Since their presence makes the city SAFER, the people don't hunt the invaders. Or if they do, they hunt them with at most as much zeal as they did the old vampires. And if the people couldn't kill those sorry excuses for immortals, how much of a threat would they be to Mal's Picked Warrior Elite? Back in LA, killings as a whole are down because they dust any vampires who don't wear their mark, preventing out-of-towners from capitalizing on the situation.

Lou and Vic still share leadership, and probably will continue to until a crisis or setback causes factionalism and infighting. They've made a point of steering clear of Angel until their vamps have become better fighters. Yet the longer they stay under the radar, the more gleeful they feel about getting away with it, and the greater their desire to taunt the enemy. With this is mind, the two of them lead ten other vampires into the Sears store at the Glendale Galleria, eight miles northwest of the Hyperion. This is close enough so Angel would feel guilty for not stopping it, but far enough away for them to be long gone before Angel could get there. Victor and the five other white vampires enter first and turn left towards men's wear. Ten seconds later, Louis and the five other black vampires enter and turn right towards electronics. Customers and employees immediately notice the half-dozen black men. Three security guards move over towards them, keeping their distance and trying quite ineffectively to be discrete and not get noticed by their targets. The black vampires look over some flat-screen televisions before checking out the stereos, all the while casually talking and carrying on as if they have no idea that everyone within a hundred feet is watching them, and anyone who was closer than that has fled. Meanwhile, the white vampires spread out, two heading to women's wear, two more entering children's wear, one going for the changing rooms. Victor, running the show from the centrally-located jewelry counter, scans his side of the store. No one's watching. He looks at his watch. 8:19:50. He turns around to face the young saleswoman on the other side of the counter.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for a necklace for my girlfriend," he adds bashfully, playing the nervous male customer who's never bought jewelry before.

"Well sir, we have plenty of selections, depending on your price range."

"Price really isn't an object. I'm just looking for something that would look on her neck. What do you think would look good on your neck?" Vic hears screams. Right on schedule. "What was that?," the woman asks nervously. Vic leaps over the counter, pulls her down to the ground where she can't be easily seen, covers the woman's mouth and quickly drains her. Each of the five other vampires also had locked onto their target by the time their synchronized watches read 8:20:00. A boy looks in the mirror at the shirt he's trying on while his mother looks for pants in his size thirty feet away. The boy feels himself being lifted off the ground, which is strange, since no one's behind him. The vampire bites down, and the boy, too frightened to scream, dies while watching himself in the mirror, getting killed by an invisible monster. When his mother returns, the vampire is gone, and her son lies motionless on the floor. She shrieks and cries for help. The shrieking causes security to rush over, and takes the customer's attention off of Lou and his friends, who quickly make their way to the exits. Victor tosses the employee's corpse onto the counter, causing more shrieks. While they're looking at the body, he leaps over the counter on the other side and heads towards the doors. When he turns and looks for his buddies, he's happy to see them all rapidly approaching. Thirty seconds after the start of the attacks, everyone is outside. Their discipline and restraint (leaving so many easy targets unharmed, half the vampires doing no killing at all) make it seem to those present as if the atrocity was committed by ghosts. They quickly disperse to their cars, happy with the success of their lightning surgical strike.

"Did you see how those white people were staring at us?," Lou asks Vic with mock seriousness. Vic shakes his head.

"It's such a shame that in this day and age people still judge a man by the color of his skin. You would think that by now we had moved on to other, more important criteria."

"Like whether or not they have a reflection." The two of them laugh. "Why didn't they notice that about us?"

"Because when you're scared of someone, you look right at them."

"You guys went first. We get to drink at the next hit."

"In Watts," Victor adds. Both of them burst out laughing.

"Whoever thinks racism can't kill is a damn fool," Lou jokes as they laugh some more.

"A damn dead fool."

Angel sees Buffy outside, near the bunker. They stand around, not looking each other in the eyes for about ten seconds. "I think I need someone who lives here to let me in. And, no one else is outside."

"Xander and, umm, Charles aren't still out?"

"Apparently not. They were together?"

"Like instant best friends, from what I saw." Angel's positively mystified. He hopes Buffy's mistaken. If not, then he's disappointed in Gunn. Neither Buffy nor Angel wants to say anything about what happened before Buffy stormed off. They proceed in silence towards the entrance, which Buffy makes pop up by remote. They walk down the stairs and enter the bunker. Spike slouches against the back wall of the living room, twenty feet away, glaring at them. Until he sees Angel's bruises. Finally, some good news. "Hey guys," Buffy says, confused by all the funny looks.

"What happened to your eye?," Wesley asks. Only then does Angel remember the injury, which he had tried very hard to forget about on his meandering way back.

"Oh. That. It's still there?" Angel puts his right hand to his face, pretending he thought it had already healed. "I, we, we were attacked."

"Yes. Attacked. By an uber-vamp," Buffy quickly adds.

"Yeah. It was an uber-vamp. Completely blindsided me. Came out of nowhere. Otherwise it couldn't have done this."

"Don't worry," Buffy assures them. "There weren't any others."

"After it knocked me down, she killed it."

"I'm thinking it was guarding the hill for Nina the other night."

"Like the one I killed?," Spike asks with a smile.

"Uh-huh. It was probably guarding another approach. One that we didn't use. So it just missed us, and by the time it got back to the top, everyone was gone. So it's probably been hiding in some cave during the day and roaming around town at night, looking for someone to attack. That's my theory."

"As long as we're not dealing with the vanguard of an army of demons that's burst out a little early to take us completely by surprise," Anya jokes in her inimitable way. Angel scans the room.

"Has Connor come back?"

"In much better shape that you," Spike replies. "And a lot happier-looking, I might add." Perhaps his time with Buffy didn't go as well as Spike had feared. The two lovebirds are by themselves in the kitchen. Now that she's around everyone else again, Dawn has on her long-sleeved light gray t-shirt. Connor's scooping up with his right hand the chocolate on the bottom of the bowl Andrew used to stir the brownie mix.

"We do have real food. If you're hungry," Dawn suggests.

"That's okay. I'm not," he responds before stuffing another hunk of fudge in his mouth. Connor looks at her. "Something wrong?"

"No. I liked to lick the spoon and eat the stuff at the bottom of the bowl, too. When I was nine." Then she remembers why she can't do jokes about being immature. "I mean, when I thought I was, or, I think I did when I when I thought I was." Connor stops eating.

"It's okay, Dawn. It doesn't matter anymore. Because this is real." He leans in and kisses her for a few seconds before she pulls away and licks her lips.

"Sweet."

"Thanks," Connor replies with a grin.

"I meant the chocolate." Dawn scoops some up on her right index finger and sticks it into Connor's mouth. When she pulls it out, he leans his head forward, as if wanting more. Dawn smiles coyly. But when he reaches for her waist, she jumps back onto the counter that runs through the middle of the room.

"Never seen you play the tease before," he says before reaching for her legs. Dawn grabs his wrists and pushes him back.

"I'm not playing. Wash you hands." Connor looks at his hands and remembers that they're covered in sticky chocolate.

"Afraid I'll get some on you? Don't worry. I'll just lick it right off." Dawn wasn't ready for that response. Apparently, absence doesn't just make the heart grow fonder. It also makes the mind grow sicker. When he reaches for her again, she puts her feet on his chest and pushes Connor away, pinning his back to the edge of the sink. Unfortunately, this was also a turn-on for Connor. Right then, Angel enters the kitchen in order to get a glass of blood.

"Hands off," Dawn tells Connor. "Don't make me break out the handcuffs."

"Sounds like fun," Connor replies with a smile. Angel barely gets two steps into the room before turning around and leaving. He hadn't known they were in the kitchen. He had been afraid to inquire where they were, assuming Connor was in her bedroom, which was something he didn't want to hear, especially with Anya around to make inappropriate comments. Now he realizes that asking would have been more than worth the risk.

Meanwhile, Dawn is beginning to get annoyed by her horndog of a boyfriend. "Is there anything I can say or do that won't turn you on?," she asks as she removes her feet from his chest.

Connor takes his time seriously pondering this question. "No."

"Kicking you in the groin?"

Connor winces and closes his legs, traumatized by the memory of what Nina did to him. "That's an option?"

Dawn gets down off the counter. "Guess that's up to you." She means it as a joke. But Connor takes it quite seriously, spinning around and turning on the water.

"Soap?"

"Yes. It is," Dawn jokes. "How come you're not laughing?"

"Should I be?"

Dawn realizes she scared her mood-swinging boyfriend. "It was an Airplane' joke. Guess you haven't seen it."

"I've seen airplanes," Connor replies, fearing that she's condescending and making fun of his lack of familiarity with this world.

Dawn wraps her arms around his waist, hugs him tight from behind and rests her chin on his right shoulder. "It's a movie, silly. And it's also a silly movie, actually." Connor smiles. Dawn kisses his right cheek. He holds up his palms.

"Is this clean enough?" Dawn sighs and shakes her head. From rogue lechery to nervous quiescence in the blink of an eye. Emotional fragility on top of physical invincibility. Boyfriends didn't come any more paradoxical that Connor. But she liked the challenge of making sure the roller-coaster didn't fly off the tracks. Dawn kisses his neck. Connor takes that as a yes. While he's drying his hands, Dawn steps back and looks glum. "What now?," Connor asks, putting his left hand on her right cheek and rubbing her left shoulder with his right hand. Dawn looks him in the eye.

"If only I could make you not worry so much about tomorrow." Alas, all powers have their limits.


	70. Last Night On Earth

"This is a woman who has spent the past six-and-a-half years throwing herself on grenades so we don't get scratched by the shrapnel."

Clayton Jenkins, Director of LA office, Wolfram & Hart

Angel and friends debate whether Dawn's latest vision means the world won't end, Dawn will die, or both. Buffy and Spike have a bitter spat over how she feels about him. (Instead of fighting each other, Angel and Spike each end up fighting Buffy.) And Angel's latest in a long line of lawyer enemies raises doubts as to where his loyalties really lie.

If Angel and his friends can't stay, at least some of their weapons can. The Sunnydale gang looks over the arsenal. Ariella smiles when she picks up Wesley's two handguns. She carefully looks them over. "Thirty-two. Eight round magazine?," she asks.

"Yes," Wesley responds. "But do be careful." He gasps when she casually tosses the loaded weapon through the air to Fadila. Ella laughs as Wesley's terror.

"Don't worry. Safety's on." The other pistol's clearly her favorite. "Glock .45. Ten round mag. Excellent stopping power."

"Certain demons I've encountered over the past year would tend to think otherwise." Fadila hands the .32 to Madari, picks up Wesley's shotgun, aims and cocks it, alarming Giles.

"Fadila! How can you be so reckless?"

"It's okay, Mister Giles. I was aiming at Spike." He thinks about this, realizing Fadila makes a good point.

"Even so, after the pellets travel through Spike, they could ricochet off the wall and hurt someone else." Spike, of course, is insulted, though not surprised, given who's speaking.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She puts the gun down. "These won't do any good tomorrow, anyway."

"But this will," Spike says as he rotates his right wrist to spin Gunn's giant ax around and around. "I could chop up a lot of baddies with this slab of cold steel."

"Or, one of the baddies could take it from you and chop up the good guys," Gunn comments, not wanting to let his prize weapon fall into the wrong hands.

"Not if I'm holding the ax. Anyway, Nina likes to use her hands. Tell you what, Charlie: I'm borrowing your tool. You can have it back when Nina's dead, or when I'm dead."

Angel smiles. "A contract with an incentives clause. Gunn, I think you should take the deal. It's just a piece of metal. You can't become too attached to inanimate objects." Angel looks across the room. "Connor! What are you doing with that?" He races over.

"Helping out."

"That's my weapon. I did not pack that."

"So?," Connor responds dismissively. Dawn pulls the three foot-long samauri sword out of its ornately painted wooden case.

"Son, that is a four hundred year-old tachi forged in Osafune by Haru-Mitsu himself. It's more than a sword. It's a work of art." Dawn takes hold of the weapon as if about to wield it in a fight. Connor smiles.

"Looks good on her, doesn't it?" Angel shakes his head and gives up. Buffy comes over to him.

"Angel. What happened before - "

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry. I flew off the handle, and I'm deeply sorry."

"It's okay, Buffy. I sort of brought it on myself."

Once outside, Fred gets Angel alone for a moment. "An uber-vamp attacked me'? Is that Champion for I slipped and fell down some stairs'?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You made her choose. You put her in a position where she had to make a decision, one way or the other."

"Did Buffy - ? Oh, I don't believe this. She barely even knows you."

"She didn't say a word. Didn't have to." Fred puts her left arm around Angel's shoulders, like a coach instructing a player. "I know you've been around a long time, but there's still a lot about women ya don't understand."

"Fred. What are you doing?" She takes her arm away.

"Jus' tryin' to help. Ya looked like you could use some."

Angel laughs. "Right now, I'm the last person here who needs help."

"Suppose you're right. Right now, our problems really don't amount to a hill of beans." Angel gets in the driver's seat. Gunn calls and takes shotgun. Fred sits behind Angel and Wes sits behind Gunn.

"Do we have everything we came with? Other than what they chose to keep?"

"We're missing Connor," Fred points out.

"Isn't he one of the things they chose to keep?," Wesley jokes. Angel honks the horn. Connor keeps exploring Dawn's tonsils. He honks again. Dawn backs away.

"I think you should go with them," she suggests. Connor looks disappointed. "I'm sorry Connor. Time to go home." He stands there, forelorn, as Dawn walks towards the entrance. She turns, looks at him for a few seconds and disappears underground. Angel, who's losing patience, backs up towards Connor. The door slides open and he gets in, looking mopey. Connor slumps onto the bench behind Fred and Wes, and Angel drives off. There's silence for a few minutes, until they get passed the police cordon and onto highway 101.

"The Potentials seemed quite friendly," Wesley offers.

"Really seem to be taking this whole fighting for your life thing in stride," Gunn adds.

"Big deal," Connor scoffs. "Who doesn't?" Everyone chalks it up to Connor's distorted sense of norms and chooses not to reply. He leans forwards and rests forearms and chin on the top of the bench in front of him. Connor smiles and looks to Fred and Wes on either side. "So. What did you think of her? She's great, huh?"

"The two of you seemed very happy together," Wes diplomatically responds. All of them are a little creeped-out by the two young lovers. Except for Angel, who's a lot creeped-out.

"You guys like her, right?"

"How could we not?," Fred answers, afraid like everyone else of expressing their misgivings.

"She's definitely one-of-a-kind," Gunn comments, topping the others in pleasant but meaningless platitudes. Connor's head is too far in the clouds to notice the intentional evasiveness.

"So you see what I see in her?" That was loaded question. Especially for the men. An affirmative answer could have uncomfortable connotations. But a negative response was equally out of the question. Fred conscientiously elects to bail the boys out.

"She's very pretty, Connor. And very smart. You're a lucky guy." Connor couldn't be more pleased. Angel thinks Fred went a little overboard, and turns around to glare at her. "Sorry," she mouths to him.

"What did you think, dad?" Angel mulls this over, but doesn't respond. "That's okay," Connor tells him. Angel feels relieved. "You'll have plenty of time to get to know her over the summer." The van skids, but Angel quickly regains control.

"I miss my old car," he comments, trying unconvincingly to make it seem that Connor's remark hadn't caused the problem. "Can't wait 'till it's out of the shop."

"I don't believe this," Connor fumes. "You're not happy for me. You're just mad 'cause seeing us together freaked you out. Well that's not my problem. You're the one who chose to date her older sister. You know how weird that makes things?" Gunn, Fred and Wes gasp, astounded by Connor's chutzpah. Angel decides that it's time to confront his son's ridiculous self-centeredness head-on.

"I'm sorry, Connor. I'm sorry that when I met Buffy, I had no idea that one day I would father the first child ever born to a vampire, and that this child would develop an interest in Buffy's then-ten year-old sister, who back then didn't actually exist, and therefore I could not have known about. I'm sorry that I could not foresee these events."

"You made your point," Connor concedes. "It's not just that. You could have done better that Buffy. Cordy's prettier. Fred's prettier. I know I'm not the only guy here who thinks that," Connor adds, putting Gunn and Wes on the spot.

"That's really not necessary," Fred tells Connor, trying to end his little attempt to embarrass Angel.

"What makes Buffy prettier than Fred, Angel?"

"Connor, stop it!," Fred commands. He relents.

"Ewww!" Dawn closes her eyes, puts her hands to her head and cringes.

"Dawn, are you in pain?," a concerned Buffy asks. "Is it a vision? Are they giving you headaches?"

"Not painful. Just disgusting. I need to make a call."

Angel's cell phone rings. "Hello. Dawn?" Just when they had finally shut down Connor's discussion of her. "You had a vision." He's pleasantly surprised that this is a business call. "No. You can tell me. That's how it always used to work." Of course, she wanted to tell Connor. As if the visions were meant for him.

"Some sort of sea monster eating a man whole under the Santa Monica Pier. I think it's a man getting eaten. And by eating whole, I don't mean in one bite. There were four or five. And it happens Friday night."

"How do you know that? Did the vision tell you the time and location?"

"They can do that?," Dawn whines. "It's a pier, and I could hear the merry-go-round, so I'm pretty sure it's Santa Monica. And they were playing that annoying Bang On A Drum' song."

"Todd Rundgren. I'm a fan of some of his early ballads."

"It's one of those end-of-the-work-week songs they play on Friday nights. Plus, I could here tons of noise from above, so I think it was pretty crowded and festive. Maybe a bit too festive for a weeknight."

"I can check it out tomorrow just to be sure. What about the Venice Pier?"

"Angel, who's the one who gets the visions?," a slightly annoyed Dawn asks.

"They're all connected by one long boardwalk. It's hard to tell where Venice stops and Santa Monica begins," he offers, splitting the difference. "What did the monster look like?"

"Big. Bigger than the person. Maybe eight feet long. It's like, I dunno, like a giant, hairless weasel. With four stubby feet and very long claws. Plus lots of teeth. It did chomp the guy down pretty fast. But he was already dead."

"The monster could have drowned him first."

"I don't see why, with the claws and all. If this thing killed him, they would have showed it. With lots of screaming. The Vision Gods like to make you feel the victim's pain. Which is just really gratuitous and, oh, never mind. But this time they didn't. That's what those of us in the detective business call a clue," Dawn says, relishing the opportunity to turn the tables and condescend to Angel. Perhaps some of Connor's truculence is rubbing off on Dawn.

"Yeah, okay, thanks Dawn. I'll get right on it." He hangs up.

"Who's she helping us save now?," Connor asks with smile, knowing how much Angel hates having to rely on Dawn as a de facto part of the team.

"No one. The John Doe's already a corpse."

"What evil demon is she helping us kill?," Connor follows up.

"Some sort of large, amphibious sea monster who's feeding under a pier. She thinks it's Santa Monica on Friday night. But it won't do us any harm to check this out before then."

"That's so weird," Connor declares.

"You're right. We haven't fought too many sea monsters," Wesley comments.

"I don't remember any," Gunn adds.

"That's not what I meant," Connor follows up. "Right before I left, we were talking about going to that beach this weekend. Dawn said she was gonna teach me how to swim. Was that like a prophecy?"

"Coincidence," Wes quickly corrects him. Anything involving both Connor and prophecies instantly frightens him. "Mere coincidence."

"You don't know how to swim?," Angel asks with surprise.

"The lakes and swamps in Quor Toth were all filled with demons. And the rivers weren't deep enough. Or they were, but moved too fast."

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to learn? I could have taught you."

"At night?"

"There are also indoor pools."

"Why would someone be under a pier at night?," Wes wonders, bringing them back on topic.

"He's already dead in the vision." This gives Wes an idea.

"Perhaps someone is feeding the monster. We could be dealing with a form of ritual propitiation."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Angel cautions.

"How bout we ask the regulars if they've noticed any suspicious activity along those beaches?," Fred suggests. "Venders, beach bums, surfers."

"Hold on people," Gunn jumps in. "Am I the only one who's not missing the biggest news in this vision? The world ain't gonna end tomorrow." Everyone takes a few seconds to let this sink in.

"It could be tonight," Angel proposes. "People play Todd Rundgren on weeknights."

"Say it is tonight," Gunn offers. "Why would the Powers bother? Why help us change the future if there ain't gonna be any future?"

"They do have a rather vicious sense of humor," Angel notes ruefully. He still hasn't forgiven them for what happened to Cordy. Connor gets a look of dread on his face, which none of the others can see since he's in back.

"Say the world survives. How many of the people in Sunnydale don't survive? We don't know. And we've never gotten a vision from Dawn this early. It's always on the same day. Why would they do it extra early unless, unless they know she's not gonna be here on Friday?"

"I'm going to die," Anya declares.

"Part of being human," Xander replies. They're in the bedroom they share, sitting on their respective beds.

"I mean tomorrow."

"Why now? We've been through worse." She looks at him for a few seconds. "No point in trying to do a ranking. Things have seemed hopeless before, and we've pulled through."

"Those were different. The bad guys intended to end the world while we were still alive. Or at least while I was alive. The First wants to kill all of us before that can happen."

"I don't see the difference."

"This time, when the world's about to end, no one will be around to save it. Before now, the thing trying to kill and the thing trying to end the world were one and the same. Now, there's a division of labor. Nina doesn't care about an apocalypse. She just wants to satiate her blood lust. What makes the First so dangerous is that it's the only Big Bad to discover the virtues of specialization. The best fighter and the brains of the operation are two different entities, and we can't even get at the brain."

"She's killable. That's all I need to know. There's a way. Which means Buffy has the will to find it."

"You can't just keep reflexively relying on Buffy to save the day. To be honest, I'm not even sure Buffy's relying on Buffy right now."

"Well we can't give up."

"I'm not giving up. I'm preparing to die nobly and heroically, in a manner which will be recounted for generations to come. Of course, the recounting's up to you."

"That's not a job I want."

"Well fine then. I'll die alone and forgotten."

"No Anya. We'll die together."

Her eyes open wide and she smiles. "You mean that? You'd really throw yourself on my funeral pyre?"

"Or we'll walk out together."

"You better not be backing away now from your pledge to become the first man to commit suttee."

"We'd both die in battle. Heroically, of course."

"Oh. I suppose some could see that as romantic."

"Shouldn't We'll share the same fate' motivate you to want to live?"

"Nobody celebrates lovers who live to a ripe old age. Especially if they're no longer lovers. Death would paper over that inconvenient fact."

"There are other ways."

"You're right!," Anya announces as she stands up and walks from her bed over to his.

"For instance, deeper, more profound aspects of love than can be expressed through . . . physical means."

"Or, we could nullify the inconvenient fact," Anya suggests before taking off her shirt. Xander looks up and gets frazzled.

"Th-th-that would be a rather, umm, petty way of altering circumstances."

"It would also help us get to sleep." For Xander, this wrecks whatever mood Anya was trying to build. He stands up and walks to his right and Anya's left, so that he ends up at the foot of the bed.

"So much for flattery."

"I meant after. The after part where you and, hopefully I, are relaxed. I don't think it's a good idea to fight the strongest enemies you've ever faced without any sleep. And, if you're as nervous as I am, sleep's not a possibility."

"Performance-enhancing sex."

"It serves multiple purposes."

"What is it about you and me and underground spaces?," he asks, referring to their first time in his basement.

"You always do seem to be hiding from something. I suppose it could be some sort of profound metaphor. Can you help me undo this bra strap?" She's standing in front of him. Xander looks at Anya and smiles.

"I always did like your direct manner," he concedes. She leaps at him, and they both fall on top of the bed.

In Willow's and Kennedy's room, the mood is equally nervous, though more subdued. Willow sits on the edge of the bed. Kennedy puts her arm's around Willow's waist from behind. "This is too much pressure."

"You've handled pressure before," Kennedy assures Willow.

"Not like this."

"Just like this. And you're more powerful than you've ever been."

"It's not about power. Yes, of course it is. But I have to pretend it isn't. Otherwise Nina wins because she can counter brute strength and, to make matters worse, she can't be hurt by spells invoking any and all of my favorite goddesses. And gods. It's not a sexist thing. Just a bizarrely monotheist thing. Or so Giles told me. Which sucks, because they all look down on magic. "

"Giles thinks this is about religion?," Kennedy asks, rather startled.

"Not really. It's about good and evil. Since people have free will, power can be used for either purpose. That's why the Zoroastrians buried the stone twenty five centuries ago. Zarathustra's teachings convinced them it wasn't inherently good, as the Chorasmians had always believed. It all depended on who was using it."

"And you'll be the one using it, sweetie."

"Only if I transcend myself, or my motives are pure, or, you know, something, I don't know. That's the worst part. If the moment comes, I won't even know what I'll have to do to pull it off."

"Go with your instincts."

"You mean the ones that have kinda completely failed me since Nina dropped into town?"

"But this time Willow, you won't be fighting her. You'll competing with her. The magic ball's gotta pick someone, and I know who I'd go with everytime."

"It's me, right?" Kennedy laughs and kisses Willow's neck.

"You're the one she's interested in, anyway. In fact, I got the sense she's jealous of me. Can't say I blame her."

"Well, it's nice to know you don't take me for granted," Willow jokes. She lies on her back. Kennedy gazes down at her.

"Not even an insanely powerful Titan can get everything she wants. Tomorrow, if the moments comes, all you need to do is remind her of that." Over one hundred feet to the west, Buffy enters Spike's private shelter/crypt. He doesn't look happy to see her. Playing on his stereo is The Doors' "The End:"

"This is the end,

beautiful friend.

This is the end,

my only friend, the end.

Of our elaborate plans, the end.

Of everything that stands, the end.

No safety or surprise, the end.

I'll never look into your eyes . . . again."

"Can I help you?," he coldly asks.

"Lookin' for a place to crash."

"What happened to your room?"

"Nothing. You don't want me here, I can always go back." She turns around.

"But it's lonely over there. And you'd like a change. Some variety. That seems to be your theme for the night." Buffy turns around with a snarl on her face. Now she's even more upset than Spike.

"So now I need your permission to talk — alone — with another man?"

"Don't pretend my reaction's taking you by surprise. You're not that thick."

Buffy rolls her eyes and groans. "Do you two always turn into pig-headed, possessive jerks the moment you're put in the same town?"

"So you've realized that Angel's a jerk?"

"I forgot something: CHILDISH, pig-head, possessive jerks." She holds her arms out to the side. "Go ahead. Call Angel. Tell him to come back here. So that you two can split me down the middle. From top to bottom. Then you'd each have a one-half of Buffy that could always be yours. Maybe that would solve things. No. You'd probably fight over who gets the left and who gets the right."

"You know wut your problem is?"

"Men who try me what my problem is?"

"You're afraid to be happy. Cuz if you're happy, then what? Something's always gotta be missing. That's why you've kept me at arm's length since I got my soul back. God forbid I could make you happy. God forbid you could have satisfaction without guilt." Buffy hits him in the nose with a right jab.

"Oww! Hey, I'm bleeding."

"I thought you liked to lick it up." She hits his right cheek with a left hook, and he goes down.

"Can't answer me with words, so you resort to fists," he says as he gets up.

"No, I'm just tired of men deciding what's best for me. You don't I'm capable of doing it myself?"

"So this is wut happened to Angel. How come you hit him more?"

"This is unreal. Even by your standards!"

"The better the argument, the harder you have to work to rebut it, the more blows you land. Fine. Go off with him. See you in the morning." She pounds his chin with a right uppercut, sending Spike flying into the wall behind him. (It's not much of a flight, since the room's only ten feet wide, but the impacts with the concrete wall, then with the concrete floor, are pretty jarring.)

"Listen to yourself! The more she hits me, the more she loves me.' You have completely lost it."

"Oh really. So I just imagined that when he was here, I wus invisible to you."

"I have spent the better part of the last seven months - "

"Six months." She groans angrily yet again.

"With you."

"I think you're overstating how much time we spent together during those months."

"Not according to Giles. Or Willow. Or Xander. Or Dawn."

"So now I'm keeping you from your friends and family."

"Sometimes I think vampire years are like dog years in reverse. One hundred twenty four in vampire years is only eighteen in human years. So I'm actually the mature one in this relationship."

"Where does that leave Angel?," Spike asks defensively, since he's about twice Spike's age.

"Angel's fifteen. Angelus would be like in his early twenties. Don't gloat," she says to preempt any bragging about being "older" than Angel. "You're both equally immature. You know what? I should just let you two fight over me."

"No complaints here."

"I'll go live somewhere else for a year, get on with my life, then return to find you both horribly disfigured — and still fighting. As I was trying to say, we've spent a lot of time together. On the other hand, I haven't seen Angel in over a year-and-a-half."

"And he's spent every minute of that time alone, thinking about you." Buffy slaps his face with her right hand.

"That's gonna leave a palm mark. But I think I hurt you more than you hurt me." She goes to slap him with her left hand, but he grabs her left wrist with his right hand.

"You both need help." Buffy starts chuckling. "Couples counseling. The two of you make the same, selfish mistake. All this time, while you're thinking over what would make me happy, you never even consider how I actually feel. Otherwise you wouldn't be doing this."

"I'm doing this because there's a lot I've held in, and I figure I might as well get it out, seeing how I'm going to die tomorrow." Spike turns his head to the right and quickly wipes his right eye, trying to keep Buffy from noticing.

"Oh my god. You're crying."

"Am not."

"Yes you were."

"Okay. But only cuz of the pain. Nothing at all to do with my feelings." Seems a teensy bit more manly that way, at least to Spike.

"Now I've figured it out. I should never talk to you guys about yourselves. When I want insight into you, I'll go to Angel. When I want to learn what's in Angel's head, I'll chat you up. Because you know each other as well as you know yourselves. And that way, I won't have to deal with either of your bullshit. And then, when I want to understand myself, I'll, I don't know, I'll talk to Xander. Because you two have too much at stake to be objective."

"You think the boy knows you better than I do?"

"No. But at least what he says isn't self-serving. I need you to satisfy me?," she asks as she laughs. "To make my life bliss?"

"I never said that. Here's what I will say: You couldn't love me cuz you couldn't trust me. Done. You couldn't love me cuz I didn't have a soul. Done."

"I told you I loved you a while back."

"So love's a turn-off?" She balls her right fist, but keeps it at her side, as a warning. "It's gotta be that. Or, you're too scared to put the pieces together."

"Scared of what? Oh, I forgot. Your bliss-inducing, life-altering penis," she says with sarcastic understatement.

"I wusn't talking about sex."

"That would be a first for you."

"I'm talking about getting close."

"I'm not fifteen. You don't have to use euphemisms."

"Already plowed those fields for a season. Thought I'd lead them fallow for the next one." She throws a right hook, which Spike anticipates and backs away from. "You were the one making it vulgar. This isn't about bloody shagging. There's been a barrier between us, and don't try to deny it."

"Because once we get close, I won't be able to stop, and next thing you know we'll be playing Subterranean House again."

"Buffy, you're not listening." She grabs his shirt, pulls him close and plants one on his lips. After taking five seconds to get past his shock, Spike starts eagerly kissing back. After twenty seconds Buffy pushes him away. His back slams into the wall. He's clearly knock-kneed. Buffy wipes her lips as if it were nothing special.

"See. I stopped. You're wrong. Now shut up and let me get in bed with you." Eighty percent of Spike thinks she's taunting him. Twenty percent holds onto the forelorn hope that she's serious. Buffy laughs. "Why does everything have to be about sex?," she asks, mocking Spike's previous argument by using it against him. "I'm sick of men trying to win me. I have bigger things on my mind. What I want is a man to be there for me, without feeling the need to stake a claim or mark his territory. That's why I came here. To be close." Spike walks past Buffy to her right, towards the wall at the head of the beds that are on either side. After taking a little while to think this over, he turns around.

"You just made that up on the spot to make me look bad."

"No Spike. It's why I came here. You made yourself look bad." He considers the idea that his entire argument was a waste of time. No point continuing down that road. Time to show Buffy he's not so pig-headed after all.

"Buffy, you know how much I care for you. I wus confused, and angry, and didn't give you a chance to - "

"Spike stop. Stop," she orders, smiling and shaking her head. "Don't try and be sweet and insincere. You're much cuter when you're pig-headed and honest."

"I'm never sweet and honest?," he asks with his pursed lips, sunken cheeks, roguish half-smile and raise eyebrows.

"Sure. But then you're boring," she half-jokes back.

1983. Christ Hospital in Cincinnati. A ten year-old Clayton Jenkins lies in bed, hooked up to the usual battery of life-sustaining machines. His head is bald. His skin is deathly pale. As one would expect it to be, since he is suffering through the advanced stages of Leukemia. His parents stand on either side of his bed. The doctor solemnly updates them on Clay's condition. Every time they visit him in the big city, his parents wear their Sunday Church clothes. It occurs to Clay that this is also what they'll wear to his burial. His mother sits by his side and gently holds his right hand. He looks up at her. "Don't worry, ma," he says in his thick Kentucky backwoods accent, still obvious even when his voice is barely above a whisper. "Ain't it always darkest right before the dawn? Reckon I'm due for my second wind." His feigned bravery makes her weep.

His father, who stands on the other side of the bed, takes is left hand. "You keep fightin' son. We'll keep prayin'." Late that night, when he's all alone, little Clayton feels his body slipping further and further away from him. Clay himself had scorned prayer out of a belief that his tragic predicament proved God was either non-existent or exceedingly cruel. But if this was it, best to take one final chance with Jesus. He closes his eyes, uses all his remaining strength to pull his arms together and intertwine his fingers, then whispers the Third Psalm:

"Lord, you are a shield to cover me:

you are my glory, you raise my head high.

As often as I cry aloud to the Lord,

he answers from his holy mountain.

I lie down and sleep,

and I wake again, for the Lord upholds me.

I shall not fear their myriad forces

ranged against me on every side."

Before long, he senses that the room is brightening, and opens his pale blue eyes. Floating before him is a blonde woman dressed in shimmering white. An angel.

Back to the present. Clayton's dozed off in a chair in the master bedroom of his hilltop Racho Palos Verdes home overlooking the ocean four miles south of Redondo Beach. Mona puts her hand on his chest to wake him up. As usual, their conversations appear to be monologues, since she can communicate to him without wasting her breath. He takes her right hand in his left. "Hey honey. You didn't need to tell me. I knew you were worried from the look on your face. The First Evil?" He stands up and laughs. "Remember, first is never best. Yeah, their closer is one of the best in the game," he concedes, referring to Nina. "Doesn't matter. She is one. They are many, united by love and comradery. It's the same old story that's been told down through the ages. The real battles are long over. These so-called apocalypses are the enemy's death spasms. The demons decided humans were too much for them back when humans were nothing. Today the planet's ours. If anyone's going to destroy the world, it's us. No, not us as in Wolfram & Hart. Us as in the species. We are our only dangerous predator.

"Maybe the demons had a shot as late as a thousand years ago. But now, they got as much chance making this world theirs as Canada does of conquering America. Maybe even less. "Here's how it works: bunch of demons spearhead the armies of Hell. They encounter a measly ten humans. The humans are killed, but not before inflicting a few more casualties than the demons had planned on. They look at each other and say We got six billion more of these fuckers to go? Screw you guys, I'm going home.'" Mona laughs at the Eric Cartman impersonation. "Sure, these death spasms appear dire enough to the brave men and women on the scene. And that's why they're healthy. Long as the good guys are fixated on saving the world, they can't stop people like us from running it." He considers Mona's further objections. "Of course the enemy always comes close. Yes, I am referring to the demons as the enemy, and Buffy et. al. as our friends. This is a woman who has spent the past six-and-a-half years throwing herself on grenades so we don't get scratched by the shrapnel. And that leads me to my point. A hero always rises in the nick of time. Someone ordinary does something extraordinary. We're the most adaptable creatures ever to exist in any world. We always — always — rise to the occasion." She loves it when he waxes idealistic, especially because he sounds so heretical from the point-of-view of the Wolf, Ram and Hart. If only the Senior Partners knew (or cared) about their rising star's beliefs. Girls always dig a rebel. "Of course, if you want to pretend this is our last night on earth, I'll be more than happy to play along."


	71. Welcome To The Terrordome

Caleb finally makes his appearance. Connor and Angel fret about the fate of the Summers women. Wesley thinks he's discovered how to defeat Nina. The final fight begins, the uber-vamps pour out of the Hellmouth, and Angel races back to Sunnydale.

Clenching his jaw so as to not betray his giddy excitement, Caleb walks towards the First, who has taken the form of Buffy. He holds his hands behind his back and looks down at her with utmost deference. "Consecrated ground," he says about the cemetery where she chose to see him at the crack of dawn. "A thin coating of sanctity to cover up and prettify a field of rotting flesh."

"A fitting place to see you."

"Few have been kinder to the undertaker business than I have."

"I know you had hoped to come here earlier."

"You work in mysterious ways." Buffy smirks.

"Today will begin The Fall Of Man." Caleb smiles.

"I do like gettin' straight down to business. Point me the way to the dirty girls." He sees a fist come out the front of his chest.

"Right behind you, player-hater." Caleb's mouth opens wide and his eyes bug out in pain and horror. He looks straight ahead at Buffy, who stands with her arms folded, grinning.

"Sorry. You've been cancelled," she informs her most devoted servant.

"Why have you forsaken me!?" Nina pulls her right arm out of his chest. Caleb turns around and throws a right hook that Nina calmy backs away from. Before him stands a tall, scantily-clad harlot in high heels. Only her glowing blue eyes betray her inhumanity. Well, that and the fact that she can put her fist through his chest. Caleb steps forward and tries a left roundhouse kick, but Nina ducks under it. She blocks his left jab, swerves her head to the left to avoid his right hook, then punches him in the mouth. Her left fist exits out the back of his skull. She pulls her fist free, and what's left of Caleb tumbles to ground. During the fight, the First morphed from Buffy into Darla. Nina walks up to her.

"THAT was Plan A?," she asks in disbelief. "HE was the best home-grown talent you could produce?"

"He did very well against humans. Including Slayers. But the power I filled him with makes him especially vulnerable to you." It has to do with the fact that Nina is the only one who can touch the First.

"I make everyone look bad," Nina brags. "How come he got benched?"

"He hates women. Especially the kind that fights back. I feared he would be too easily demoralized by even a minor setback."

"Rookies often are."

"I have something for you." Nina looks down on a fresh grave, and sees the tail of an arrow sticking up from the ground. She pulls it all the way out. It's one of Mal's. He used it a week ago to dust a vampire while it was still in its coffin in order to confound the patrolling Buffy. The bubbly rush of her wild night disappears, replaced by rage.

"No," Nina replies after a long, contemplative pause. "We have a present for them."

Angel parks the car and they walk towards the courtyard. "Fred, Xander is not funny in practice," Angel maintains. "Only in theory."

"What have you got against him?," Gunn asks.

"I know I'm not alone here," Angel responds as a prompt for Wesley.

"It's what Xander has against Angel," Wes explains.

"I think he likes you better than Spike," Connor offers.

"Is Spike always that sullen?," Fred wonders.

"Except when he's angry," Angel replies.

"I don't understand how anyone could dislike him," Fred declares.

"Spike!?," Wesley asks, aghast.

"Xander. Ah don't know why ya preferred Anya's company," Fred wonders with just a tinge of jealousy.

"Forgive me for preferring the company of the person who says what everyone else ISN'T thinking." They pass through the arch and enter the illuminated garden courtyard. Angel glances at the left side of Connor's neck.

"When did you get that wound?" Connor briefly puts his hand over the spot, realizes what his dad's looking at, and blushes. "The teeth marks are pretty deep. Almost looks like it was bleeding. I don't remember Nina biting you." Gunn and Fred, who are behind Angel and Connor, get a look at it, glance at each other and try to keep from laughing.

"She seems to prefer licking," Fred points out about Nina.

"Hickies ain't her style," Gunn adds. Angel looks back at them, shocked.

"That is not a – ," Connor stops to allow Angel to get a good look. He's quickly grown to relish freaking out those who disapproved of his relationship to Dawn to begin with. Angel quickly averts his eyes. It's the vampiric connotations that bother him most. "Why do I take an interest?," Angel asks himself as he quickly walks inside. Connor follows about ten feet behind, with the others a few steps behind him.

"Angel's sounding more and more like a normal parent every day," Fred says to Wes and Gunn, neither of whom have much experience with normal parenting, though for very different reasons.

"Angel-kins!," Lorne announces. "Did Buffy give you guys the rebuff like I said she would? And what happened to your eye?"

"I was ambushed by an uber-vamp. Anything happen while I was gone? Any news?"

"All quiet on the home front. Place is practically running itself."

"I meant in the city. Have you heard about an amphibious demon along the coast?"

"A sea monster? A we talkin' Loch Ness?"

"Dawn had a vision of something the size of a sea lion eating a guy under a pier. Wesley thinks that humans, or perhaps other demons, are doing the feeding."

"Sounds like Bago. But I've never heard of any this far north. They usually stay close to the equator. That's global warming for ya."

"What do you know about them?" By now, all the others have arrived, and are listening intently.

"It's a silly superstition. Summoning a Bago and then feeding him is supposed to bring good luck and protection. Like giving a portion of your harvest to the temple of the local Suns God." There being two of those where Lorne's from.

"How long does this take?," Angel asks.

"There aren't many demons who can swallow more than one human a night. So it depends on how big the cult is."

"Check for missing persons. I'm going to the beach." Angel walks back to the door. Connor follows. Angel stops. "You want to help? You want to work with me, side-by-side?," he asks with hope in his voice.

"You might miss something," Connor replies with smirk, not wanting to step out of character and show overt affection. The two of them leave.

"Were the teenage lovebirds as bad as I warned?," Lorne asks.

"Worse," Gunn replies.

"Aggressively, almost militantly, unselfconscious," Wes adds, alluding to their shameless displays of public affection.

"Happy puppy?," Lorne asks.

"Happy, slobbering puppy," Fred answers with a cringe.

"If no one minds, I was going to use the office to read this prophecy," Wesley announces before heading in there.

"Does that one come with a warning label?," Lorne asks, given Wesley's past history with prophecies.

"It's only 'bout tomorrow's fight up in Sunnydale. Nothin' 'bout any of us."

"Call me old-fashioned, but there's two things I don't wanna know about," Lorne begins. "Prophecies I can change. And prophecies I can't. They'll both drive you bonkers."

"With that in mind, ahm headin' out," Fred reports. "Gonna meet Graham for dessert at 10:30." It's currently quarter past ten. She leaves.

"I'll just check the missing persons angle before taking off," Gunn tells Lorne.

"Don't worry yourself. Knowing Fred, she probably meant food," Lorne says as Gunn opens the door and enters the office.

"How was Connor?," Amanda asks Dawn as they both lie in their beds, unable to sleep.

"You saw." They both giggle. Dawn sighs longingly. "Boy, his butt looked good in those pants."

"I miss Preston's butt. And the rest of him as well, of course. Woulda been nice to have one night with him."

"You're a Slayer all right," Dawn responds, referring to how imminent death seemed to make Amanda horny. "And you're going to see Preston again."

"That's not entirely up to me. Nina kills at will. Molly or Zora could've just as easily been me. The only reason she didn't take out more of us was because of her confidence. Once she thinks she could lose, and that her time's running out, then we're in real trouble."

Angel and Connor return just after two in the morning. A groggy Lorne sits on a couch, sipping a sea breeze. He looks over at Angel for news. Connor runs to his room. "We went from Santa Monica all the way down to Redondo. No blood in the sand. No disappearances. No one's seen anything out of the ordinary."

"That's good news, right?" Lorne asks Angel, who chases after Connor. "And I thought his papa had a habit of seeing the cloud in every silver lining."

Angel enters his son's room. "We have to go back. We're there, the fight's about to happen, they won't say no."

"Buffy would. You don't defy her. She'll beat us unconscious before she lets us risk our lives helping her out." Connor mulls over the stubbornness of the Summers women.

"Dawn does have that taser I gave her." Angel looks alarmed because it brings back certain memories. "No, she took it. Wouldn't give it back to me." Angel thinks it was very public-minded of Dawn to get that weapon out of Connor's hands.

"Nothing's changed since we left."

"Seeing Dawn makes me feel really great. It takes a few hours for the buzz to wear off. She's all I got. I can't lose her." Angel can't believe what he's hearing.

"That's not true. You have me. You have Fred, and Gunn, and Wesley – "

"They're your friends. Not mine. Buffy dies, your life doesn't change. You didn't even have a life until you left her."

"That's not why I'm not going back. And it isn't even true."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"You were no better than Spike before you came here."

"You're only saying that to try to provoke me."

"I can't let Dawn die."

"Buffy won't let that happen. She'd give her own life before she'd ever let anything happen to her sister." Connor smiles.

"You really think so?" Angel realizes his son's taking morbid pleasure in this thought.

"She did it before."

"That's right. Dawn dies now, that sacrifice becomes pointless."

"That's putting it crassly. Insultingly so."

"What is your problem?," Connor asks, shaking his head. "I say something nice about Buffy, and you STILL jump all over me." Connor storms out. Angel stands there, pondering his progeny's many quirks. Connor storms back in ten seconds after leaving. "This is my room. You get the hell out."

After eight intense hours, a full pot of coffee and several pads full of notes, Wesley finishes. He takes off his glasses, wipes the sweat off his forehead, and reads the last page again. Then he checks and double-checks his notes. Angel, who, like Connor, couldn't sleep, knocks on the office door. "Come in," Wesley says is a shaky voice. The look on Wesley's face says everything.

"Did you find out how it ends?"

"And I quote, The world shall be at peace. The living will envy the dead.' Unquote." Naturally, Angel finds this jarring. Anyone would.

"Sounds to me like our team wins," he offers, trying to look on the bright side.

"The Forces of Evil can also bring peace. At least temporarily."

"This book was written by a priest. I think that if the Devil won, he would have put it a little differently. Anyway, I don't believe in prophecies." Wesley stares at him. "I don't believe in depressing prophecies."

"It's not a prophecy – not in the traditional sense. The author's Catholic, so he believes in individual free will. No pre-destination."

"So that makes this what, exactly? A book of probabilities?"

"It's a very confusing how-to guide, sealed until the moment it could be used. The prophecies are suitably vague. But the historical examples are quite specific. They present a variety of methods that can be used to prevent an apocalypse. Evidently the First can be defeated by the correct combination of these methods."

"Are you saying it's a crap shoot?"

"More of a multiple-choice riddle having to do with the numbers five and six." Wesley leafs through his notes. "All one needs to do is discover which of the more than one hundred methods relates to those numerals."

"I still don't like the sound of that final sentence."

"Neither did I. It either implies defeat, or victory with massive casualties."

"We're going."

"Excuse me? I've been up all night, so I might be hearing things, but it sounded to me as if – "

"Call Gunn. Call Fred. Buffy said the attack was going to be around nine. We still have time to make it."

"You and Connor have been awake all night. The rest of us are fodder for the Titan. We'd be of little use. I'm not sure you're thinking clearly."

"Nothing's set in stone. The future's ours to change. Isn't that the book's message?"

"The future is THEIRS to change. We are not the guardians of the Hellmouth."

"Which doesn't mean we can't help." Angel picks up the phone. Wesley puts his forehead to the desk in exhaustion and exasperation.

The ringing wakes Fred up. The phone is to the left of the bed, but she's on the right side, so she has to reach across Graham's body to pick it up. He opens his eyes, looks up at her and smiles. "I'll be right there. No? You'll pick me up? Yeah, that does sound better." She hangs up and gets out of bed. Graham sits up.

"Leaving so soon?," he asks, glancing at the clock.

"It's not cause of you. Last night was great," she assures him as she gets dressed. "A work-related emergency just came up."

"And in our line of work, those can't wait."

"I'm glad you understand," she replies as she walks back to the bed. She smiles at him for a few seconds. They kiss for a few more, then she's out the door. Graham gets his pants on and looks out the window. When he sees that Fred's outside, he grabs his cell phone. An emergency, eight hours after returning from a place where he knew a battle was set to happen any day. Didn't take much to figure this one out.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Anderson, sorry to call so early, but you have to put the forces on alert, establish defensive positions if things go bad, get the med-evac choppers ready to go if they don't." Graham looks disappointed and embarrassed. "You already have. The Mayor told you. That's good. Wait. Did you say zero nine hundred? That may be too late. Move everything up to zero eight hundred. How do I know? Inside intel." He cringes at the unintended entendre. "I think the Mayor will understand. You do this, I'm wrong, it's just a sixty minute wait. You don't, I'm right, it's a disaster." He hangs up.

All fifteen of them stand in front of the dry moat. The clouds that appeared fifteen minutes ago make it possible for Spike to stand there with nothing to fear. Spanning the moat in front of the entrance is a lovely arched stone bridge, built without any mortar or cement by the ever-industrious Joiners. Giles is reminded of the saying that you should build golden bridges to lead your enemy to you. Buffy also suspects a trick. "Bloody hell," Spike finally gripes, walking to the center of the bridge and jumping up and down. "It's solid. Now quit being such namby-pambies." He walks across. Andrew follows. Then Dawn. Then Xander, Anya, Faith, Giles, the six Potentials and finally Buffy. They all go one-at-a-time, in case the trick is that too much weight would cause the bridge to collapse, trapping them in the moat.

"More than an hour early," Faith notes. "Think she'll mind?"

"That's the idea," Buffy responds.

"Do-or-die time, B." Faith is the first across the threshold, with Buffy a close second. One-by-one, they enter the Arena. Andrew is the last one through the door. Once he's on the inside, the thick bronze door slams shut. It can't be opened from the inside or the outside.

"Did you see that?," Andrew asks. "I matter!" Evidently the enemy considered him an integral part of the gang. The Arena is cut in two by the Hellmouth fissure. On their half, which is a one hundred twenty foot wide, sixty feet deep semicircle, the floor has been paved with the brown stones once used to pave the walkways around the school building. Buffy sees in this an attempt to make their falls hurt more, since stone is much less forgiving than dirt. Spike and Faith walk around. They see another doorway on the opposite end. But no enemy.

"Can we summon the bird? Or will she make us wait?," he asks. Fadila takes out one of the stones she collected, puts it in her sling, spins the weapon around a few times, then shoots for the Pearl. A burst of white light appears as the stone is vaporized on contact.

"I think we just did," Giles comments. Even the smallest crack destroys the Pearl's power, so Nina can't afford to let them take pot shots or try to undermine one of the three legs the sphere rests on. The Potentials form a defensive arc along the wall to the right of the closed door. Anya, Dawn, Xander and Andrew form a screen in front. Giles stands in front of them, with Willow to his right. Buffy and Faith are up front near the Hellmouth on the right flank. Spike's up on the left. Nina enters. The door behind her slams shut. Her hair's long and purple, and she wears a navy blue leather jumpsuit, just like when they first met, and she drew first blood.

"To be honest, I was also getting sick of waiting," Nina comments about her foes' early entrance. In her right hand is the arrow. The Joiners added a heavy lead weight to the center of the shaft, adding penetrating power and a grip for throwing, thereby turning the arrow into a heavy dart. In her left hand is the bronze sickle. "Let's make this quick. Got a hot date tonight in Atlanta. I wonder if his name means he's 3000 years old? Still younger than my last boyfriend." Nine looks up at the opening in the ceiling sixty feet above the floor. Then she walks towards Faith and Buffy, stopping twenty feet away. They stare each other down from opposite sides of the fissure. "I've got so much trouble on my mind, but I refuse to lose. Known as fair square throughout my years so I growl at the livin' foul. Black to the bone, my home is your home, so Welcome To The Terrordome," she declares, picking out lines from the Public Enemy song of the same name. In addition to digging the song, she finds reciting these lines to be ironic because she's brown, not black, and she doesn't have any bones. (The flesh of a Titan is of uniform composition and consistency throughout its body, meaning, among things, that it has no vital organs or vulnerable spots.) Nina walks away. The floor starts rumbling. When it stops, Buffy, Faith and Spike can see the uber-vamps climbing out of the Hellmouth. They rush back to defend the others.

Gunn floors it as they take Interstate 5 northward. Wesley rides shotgun, rummaging through his papers. Fred's behind Gunn, Connor's behind Wes, and Angel hides from the sun on the back bench. "Did he understand? Or was he still asleep?," Angel asks Fred.

"He? Oh no. You can smell him? Eww!," she yells out, feeling as if his enhanced olfactory abilities constitute an invasion of privacy. Wes and Gunn had noticed that she appeared flush and seemed far less grim than the rest of them. This would confirm their suspicions.

"If the world is really gonna end, at least one of us didn't waste the last night," Connor comments.

"Yes, I hardly know him," Fred defensively responds, "but if you say ANYTHING - "

"It would be an unfair double standard," Wes declares.

"He ain't evil," Gunn points out approvingly, comparing Graham favorably to some of their trysts. "He ain't never been evil. He didn't ever try to kill any of us."

"Except me," Angel points out.

"You were evil, and that was self-defense," Fred reminds him.

"Kelly says Graham's a real stand-up guy," Wesley reports. Fred was most worried about his reaction. She's glad Wes chose not to be hypocritical.

"He's military. Does he know Riley?," Angel asks.

"They're best friends," Fred responds. Just perfect. "Riley's married. To a girl who don't like vampires. He's way past Buffy. So he's way past bein' mad at you."

"Kelly massively outranks all of them," Wes points out with pride. "If you wanted, she could order them all to be extremely nice to you."

"I could make Graham do that on my own," Fred responds with equal pride. Connor smiles. The thought of a girl ordering her boyfriend to place nice with her friends and loved ones reminds him of Dawn.

"Any progress, Wesley?," Angel asks.

"I've ruled out over eighty scenarios. I have around thirty left to go. You can take a look at the book, if you want," Wes suggests as he hands it to Fred, who hands it to Angel. "It's in Latin and Spanish."

"I can read Latin. And Spanish is close to Italian, so I'll manage."

"I've bookmarked passages that may be of interest to you. One on Acathla. And three, remarkably enough, about Mal."

"Hold on," Fred responds. "I thought Mal liked the world."

"And to prove it, he saved it on three occasions. In India and Central Asia with the Slayer Kandake. And in Roman Dacia with a hastily improvised force of humans, vampires and demons. The Romans referred to him as Black Hercules, presumably because of his mighty bow. And his massive strength."

"Do I get a mention?," Angel asks with wounded pride.

"It's meant to supply the Sunnydale Slayer with information she wouldn't already know. The parts on Mal show vampires and Slayers collaborating, as well as demons and humans joining forces. It's a way of dropping hints. Like this story about . . . EUREKA!! I've got it. I've got it!"

"That's okay. We understood you the first time," Fred jokes.

"I know how to kill her. I know how they can kill Nina." A hush descends over the cabin. Angel looks at the road sign.

"Santa Barbara, twenty miles. That means we're sixty miles from Sunnydale. What time is it?"

Gunn glances at the console. "Seven-fifteen."

"We're gonna make it. See Wesley. I told you it was worth going."

Six Turokh-hans emerge – on Nina's side of the Arena. She drops the dart, keeps the sickle, knocks one vamp down with a leaping left roundhouse kick and beheads him, spins around, ducks a punch, blocks a dagger stab, grabs the uber-vamp's throat with her right hand and snaps its neck. Buffy realizes she's trying to psyche them out. Nina pummels the other four, knocking them all down, letting them get back up, then knocking them down again. She gets on top of one of them, squeezes its neck with her right hand and crushes its spine, then gets up in time to avoid an attack from behind. Using her mobility to avoid getting surrounded, she blocks their attacks, administers some more punishment, then beheads two, knocks the last one on his face and shoves the heel of her boot into its back, severing the spinal column. She looks across the fissure at her opponents and smiles. "Don't worry. There's plenty more where they came from. Nina walks over to pick up her dart, whistling Stevie Wonder's "My Cheri Amore" as if she could care less about the desperate battle unfolding before her.

Buffy's ordered Dawn, Xander, Anya and Andrew to join Rona, Kennedy, Madari, Ariella, Fadila and Amanda, extending their defensive arc, with Rona anchoring the left wing and Andrew the right, both of them touching the wall. Buffy can fight a little easier knowing the enemy won't get behind her most vulnerable fighters. Three uber-vamps emerge on left wing, across the room from them. Two more climb out on the right wing, directly in in front of them. Buffy tries to hold Faith back, but she rushes out at the duo, ducking a punch from the one to her right and staking him through the heart with her four thousand year-old super-stake. She nails the other one in the face with a right roundhouse kick, backs away when it swings a crude weapon resembling a lawn mower blade, leaps forward and lands a flying left kick to its nose, then clobbers the already staggered demon with a right hook kick. She runs forward, reaches her right arm out and stakes the turokh-han just before it would have fallen back into the Hellmouth.

Buffy worried that Faith's bravado would prevent her from helping them with the other three enemies. And she was right. "Don't worry pet," Spike assures her. Two-on-three's better than three-on-five." Willow steps forward and tries to push the uber-vamps back with a spell. It fizzles. She looks to her right at the Merv Stone, realizing that its power was throwing off the magical energy in the vicinity. She retreats, feeling impotent. Giles steps up, longsword in hand.

"No," Buffy tells him.

"Look behind them," Giles suggests, referring to the uber-vamps who are now only twenty feet away. Forty feet further back, two more uber-vamps claw their way to the surface. They had to take care of the front line quick. Spike leaps at the turokh-han on the right and takes him down. "I said look!, you bloody idiot." Spike gets his right arm slashed by some sort of hacking weapon. But that only makes him madder. He wrestles the weapon away, stands up and attacks. Three swings to the neck get the job done. He looks back, hoping to attack the two remaining uber-vamps from the rear. Then he looks forward, and sees the two new arrivals bearing down. Giles slowly retreats in the face of his opponent, using his sword to keep the demon at bay for the time being. Buffy engages the other one, trades a few blows and has trouble getting a quick stake. So she runs the other way and stakes Rupert's opponent in the back, turning around in time to kick her charging opponent away. They resume their hand-to-hand single combat.

Shortly after Faith dusted her first two, another three climb out in front of her. They land a few blows and force her back. She can only keep two busy at once, so the third rushes passed her. Spike gets the snot beaten out of him by the two uber-vamps he rashly charged. They leave him on the ground and head towards the Potentials, while two more turokh-hans emerge in the center of the Arena, right underneath the Merv Stone, Save for Giles and Willow, nothing stands between five uber-vamps and the Potentials. Buffy gains the upper hand, wears her opponent down and stakes him, though it takes two tries – the first to crack the sternum, the second to penetrate it. She turns to her right, runs at the demon attacking Faith from the left, leaps up, wraps her lower legs around its neck, flips the ubervamp on its back as she rolls forward, then snaps its neck between her calves. "Sweet kill, B!," Faith exclaims. Her other opponent knocks her down with a left hook while she's distracted. Buffy hits him with a left hook and a right cross before getting knocked back by a right hook. Faith steps forward and stakes him dead. They both run back to save the rest of the gang.

Giles retreats to Rona's left, and Willow falls back to Andrew's right. The other ten stay put, holding the line. Three turokh-hans engage the six Potentials. Despite the double-teams, the uber-vamps block all the sword and ax swings that come their way. The other two demons lag behind, making sure the Potentials are not a threat to their right flank before attacking the other four humans. Willow, who threatens their left flank, appears too scared to confront them. Actually, she backs off because she's knows she's too valuable to risk death in a fight. Dawn turns to her right. "Switch places with me," she whispers to Xander when the uber-vamp is a mere six feet in front of them.

"What? Why?"

"Just do it." She grabs his left bicep with her right hand, pulls him leftward, and steps to her right. As the uber-vamp charges them, she steps forward and to the right, abandoning Xander and breaking the line. She figures the enemy expects them to stay put, and hence will be surprised. Xander sure is surprised, and terrified. Dawn swings the samauri sword Connor filched from Angel, beheading the uber-vamp to her right that was about to attack Anya and Andrew.

"Dawny, what are you doing!," Anya screams as she rushes to Xander's aide. Dawn smiles at her success, spins round and swings for the other uber-vamp. He blocks her sword and takes her down with a right roundhouse kick to the face. As usual, Dawn's attempt at playing Slayer worked better than others expected, but no as well as she herself had hoped. The turokh-han punches Xander and Anya to the ground. Andrew grabs hold of its left leg. It tries to kick him loose, but can't. Having to drag this pesky human prevents it from stepping forward and finishing off the two ex-fiances. The demon leans down and stabs Andrew in the back. Andrew takes the dagger out from between his teeth and slices into the uber-vamp's left Achilles Tendon. It yelps in pain. Only able to stand on its right foot, the turokh-han falls forward and and to the right, grabbing onto Amanda and sinking its teeth into the right side of her neck. She screams. Three seconds after digging in, the uber-vamp disappears, and before her stands Buffy, who staked it in the back. The arrival the Slayers, as well as a bruised, bloodied and supremely pissed-off Spike, in their rear causes confusion among the three remaining uber-vamps. Giles beheads the one on the Potentials' far left. The other two appear caught between the anvil of the Potentials and the hammer of the Slayers. Buffy and Faith engage them while Spike looks over his shoulder.

"Better save your strength. There's more where they came from." Six more, to be exact. One attacks Spike. Three head for the Potentials. And the other two go for the other four humans who, thanks to Dawn, were victorious but disorganized. Meanwhile, Nina's moved up to the edge of the Hellmouth, just across from where the fight's happening, waiting for the right moment to make her presence felt.

Willow tries another barrier spell, but it fails just like the last one. Andrew knows one uber-vamp could easily kill four humans who lack special powers. To say nothing of what two uber-vamps could do to them. He decides that now is the moment for his Vader-esque redemptive sacrifice. Andrew yells as he runs at the two demons. He spins round, swinging his sword like a Jedi wields his light saber. The turokh-han on his right ducks and bites the right side of his neck. Still standing and holding the sword in his left hand, Andrew swings for the back of the neck of the uber-vamp on his left who walked passed him on its way to the others. He breaks the skin, but doesn't quite cut the spinal cord. However, he gets the turokh-han's attention, and the monster turns round and bites the left side of Andrew's neck from behind. He cries out in pain as his body slowly sinks do the floor. Xander seizes the opportunity. The jokes about him getting a hook had given Xander an idea. Instead of his prosthetic, which would prove useless in a fight, Xander fashioned a six inch-long stake to wear on the end of his left arm. It was covered by a thin jacket of steel for the first five inches to keep it from breaking. Since he could put his entire arm behind the thrust, he could deliver the blow with far more force than if he were holding a stake in his hand. He runs out and jabs the uber-vamp in the back, dusting him. Anya uses an ax to behead the first turokh-han that bit Andrew, nicking Andrew's forehead on the follow-through. He falls on his back.

"Ouch! I'm sorry," Anya apologizes.

"Why? Aren't they dead?," Andrew asks, his voice weak, his eyes glassy.

"They are," Xander tells him. "And you're still here."

"Not for long. These are my last words. Listen well, you brave band of brothers and sisters in arms." Dawn screams. One of the other demons has attacked her. She does her best to protect herself with her sword as she retreats towards them.

"Dawn!," Xander yells, rushing to her aid. Anya goes for another kill. Willow picks up a sledgehammer and backs them up. Andrew dies alone. But thanks to him, three turokh-hans find themselves hemmed in on three sides by eleven mortals who make up for their lack of super-powers with teamwork, ferocity and long, sharp weapons.

Spike concludes an intense hand-to-hand fight by head-butting the uber-vamp in the nose, hurling him back into the wall to the left side of the door, landing two left and two right hooks to put the turokh-han on its knees, then snapping its neck from behind. Spike smiles, all fanged-out. Blood streams down his face. His black t-shirt is slashed in three places, one of the wounds being rather deep. And his left eye's swollen shut. He hasn't felt this good in a long while.

When Nina sees Buffy's stake come out the demon's back, she hurls her dart from forty feet away. As the turokh-han turns to dust, the dart slams into Buffy's left thigh. The point embeds itself into her femur. She grimaces and falls down. There was no way she could have seen it coming. As Buffy sits, she looks ahead and sees Nina smiling. "Compliments of my boyfriend," Nina taunts. Since Mal cast all his own arrowheads, it literally was. He made them long and heavy, thin and pointy at the front to pierce armor, but flared wide in back to rip through flesh and make them hard to pull out. Buffy takes hold and snaps off the back three feet of the shaft that was sticking out of her. She stands up and goes to help, only to discover that Faith is already taking care of that.

Like most animals, a turokh-han fights desperately when cornered. They kept their dozen opponents at bay, and actually put the humans on the defensive. The one on the left slashes Dawn across her stomach with the weapon in his right hand and stabs Fadila in the right side of her rib cage with the one in his left. The shiv goes six inches into her chest, and she falls down. Xander, Anya and Willow have already been driven back and knocked down, so only Amanda remains on that wing. She tries to kick the uber-vamp with her right foot, but it steps back and slashes her right hamstring. Barely able to stand, let alone defend herself, Amanda gets help from Fadila, whom the demon decks with a right uppercut, and Dawn, whose sword slash the demon has to turn to his left to block. They lock weapons, and the uber-vamp uses his second weapon to stab her through the right forearm, causing Dawn to drop the sword and retreat. However, she succeeded in buying Amanda another five seconds, during which time Faith dispatched her opponent. Before the victorious Turokh-han can figure out which one of his fallen opponents to slaughter first, Faith stakes him through the heart. Then she heads to her right to take out the others.

The uber-vamp on the left wing was kept busy by the coordinated attacks of Rona, Kennedy and Giles, while the one in the center was too worried about a Slayer getting him from behind to do much damage to Madari or Ariella. Now its alertness pays off, and it is able to clothesline Faith with its left arm. The two uber-vamps now attack from either side as Faith stands up. "Get back!," she tells the Potentials as they try to come to her aid. Faith uses the stake in her right hand to block the attacks from the demon on her right while she kicks the one on her left twice in the chest before putting him down with a right hook kick and a left roundhouse kick. She spins to confront the other opponent, blocks its punches and lands some of her own. Without missing a beat, she stakes the demon who attacks her from behind, then continues pummelling the opponent in front of her until it's prostrate and not able to get up right away. This is what Buffy sees when she tries to come and help. Faith stakes the final beastie.

But they barely have a chance to catch their breath before Nina leaps across the fissure and lands on their side of the Arena. "Is everybody warmed up?"

NEXT: The dramatic and tragic conclusion of this story.


	72. Buffy's Darkest Hour

The sun bursts through the clouds, shining down into the hole in the center of the ceiling and frying the uber-vamps as they try to climb out of the Hellmouth. The smarter ones quickly retreat, singed but still alive. Giles knows the Merv Stone must be exposed to direct sunlight in order to do its thing. The turokh-han assault may have merely been Nina's way of killing time until the weather improved. And he thought it was the First Evil's attempt to test them as they had never been tested before! "No," Rupert thinks to himself. "That would be right now."

The sickle in her left hand, Nina briskly walks towards her huddled, weary adversaries. Buffy picks up Olaf's giant hammer, runs at Nina and belts her in the chest. She flies ten feet back and lands on her butt. "Warm enough for ya?," Buffy asks. Nina flinches in pain. Clearly, she was stung and surprised by the force of the blow. Buffy tries to hit Nina while she's down, but Nina rolls to her left, and the hammer only smashes a few of the stones that pave the floor. As Nina stands up, and before she can regain her balance, Faith knocks her a few steps back with a left hook to the face. Buffy follows this up with a hammer blow right in the kisser. Nina staggers back to within a step of the fissure. Faith and Buffy stay six feet in front of her, not wanting to venture too close to the Hellmouth lest Nina toss one of them in. Nina rolls her neck and checks to make sure her head's not deformed. Even the mighty Titan had to concede that in Buffy's hands, that hammer packed quite a wallop.

"If you were a guy, I'd say you were compensating for something," she jokes before quickly glancing at Buffy's injured left thigh. "Maybe you still are." Buffy misses the reference, assuming it's something catty about her appearance. Nina does feel a Cordelia-esque need to be the prettiest belle at the ball, except Cordy couldn't rip out the hearts of people who rubbed her the wrong way. (Thank God.) Nina patiently waits for someone to attack. Faith finally obliges, taking a step forward. Nina does likewise, putting more ground between her and the Hellmouth. Faith blocks Nina's sickle slashes with the stake in her right hand, eventually catching the inside of the curved weapon and locking Nina up. As she spins her left arm around the break free, Faith connects with a left cross, followed by a right kick to the chin. Nina jumps up as if about to through a flying right hook kick. But this is merely a highly acrobatic fake. She continues spinning around and puts Faith on her back with a left roundhouse kick. Nina puts the sickle sword on the left side of her belt as she jumps at Buffy, reaching out both hands to block the hammer, absorbing enough force to crack every bone in a human being's arms. It hurts more than Nina lets on, especially in the palms. Buffy makes a quick downward swing for Nina's right foot, smashing it for an instant, though it plumps back to normal size once the hammer is removed. Still, the blow really hurts. And Nina is not accustomed to feeling pain. She growls and knocks Buffy down with a big left hook. Faith leaps at her and lands a flying right hook kick, knocking Nina towards the center of room, close to the Stone and its skinny, conical steel supports. Anyone who touches them dies. Perhaps including Nina, who's one good hammer blow away from finding out.

Go for the legs, Nina jumps. Go the head, she ducks. So Buffy goes for the hips. Nina grabs the hammer head in mid-swing with both hands, rips the handle away from Buffy and tosses the weapon behind her and to her left. It tumbles down into the abyss of the Hellmouth. Buffy had worried Nina would use it against her. Nina didn't think she needed it. Faith hits her face with a right hook kick, a right cross and a left jab. Nina jumps and, on her way up, hits Faith in the chin with a straight left kick. The quick but powerful blow sends Faith flying through the air and crashing down to the floor on her back. Buffy knocks Nina back with two quick left kicks to her face. Nina tries a left hook. Buffy blocks it. Nina sends her right foot for Buffy's left thigh, kicking what's left of the arrow shaft, which extends an inch out from Buffy's skin. By doing this, Nina drives the arrow's head even further into Buffy's femur, snapping the thigh bone in two. Buffy gasps in pain and goes down. Nina learned long ago to exploit the fact that humans and demons have these brittle things called bones, without which they can't even move, let alone fight.

Nina now devotes all her attention to Faith, who kicks the Titan in the stomach with her left foot and punches Nina in the chin with a right uppercut. Nina slashes with her sickle at frightening speeds, forcing Faith to slowly backpedal, blocking with her stake all attacks that she can't elude. Nina throws in an occasional kick, but Faith dodges these as well. Nina's disappointed that her sickle can't cut through Faith's stake. Meanwhile Spike, who Nina forgot about, sneaks up on her from behind at grabs her arms. Faith tries to stab Nina in the head, but she kicks Faith away with her right foot. Before she can free herself, Spike arches his back and drives Nina's shoulders to the ground with a suplex throw. She bounces off the floor, lands on her face, stands up, puts away her sickle and faces a newly-confident Spike. He ducks her right jab and lands a right hook and a left cross. But she easily holds her ground and blocks his next two punches before landing a right uppercut to Spike's stomach that actually lifts him three inches off the ground. Spike feels the blood he had for breakfast shoot back up his throat and into his mouth. Before he has a moment to recover, Nina picks Spike up with both hands and launches him head-first towards the door twenty five feet in front of her. His skull leaves a dent in the three inches of solid bronze, and he plops face-first to the floor, unconscious. Faith drives Nina back with a straight left kick and a right hook kick to the head. Nina does a back flip to avoid Faith's stake. She pulls out her own weapon.

"Enough of the ensemble players. I want the star." Nina tries a left roundhouse kick. Faith backs away. She jumps when Nina attempts to sweep her legs, and lands a right hook kick before coming back down. Faith blocks the sickle with her stake and hits Nina's face with a left jab and a left hook. Nina tries a right sweep kick, which Faith ducks under before kicking the Titan in the stomach with her right foot. Nina's next attack is preempted by Faith's left roundhouse kick to her head. Increasingly agitated, Nina brings her weapon down toward Faith's head with enough force to cleave her skull in half. Faith swerves her head to the left and counters with a left hook kick to Nina's (pseudo) rib cage. Nina tries a right hook, but Faith blocks it with her left hand before putting Nina on her back with a quick right roundhouse kick. Nina vaults to her feet. "Not bad," she concedes to Faith.

"Maybe you've lost your edge."

"Very poor choice of words." Nina lands a right hook, then tries to decapitate Faith. She ducks and drives her stake into Nina's unprotected chest, right where her heart would be. She groans in agony as she jabs the point of her sickle into Faith's back, piercing the Slayer's heart before she had time to pull the stake out of her opponent and take a step back. "But at least you went out in style." Faith stares straight ahead into the distance, her eyes wide open, displaying her utter shock at this sudden reversal of fortune. A stream of blood trickles out of the left side of her mouth. Nina pulls the weapon out. As Faith falls, she turns her head to the right and flings the stake in her right hand towards Willow, thirty feet away, before Nina can grab hold of it. As she hears Faith's body hit the ground, and watches the weapon twirl through the air, Nina feels gipped. Then she sees who grabs it, and feels a lot better. The witch had been rolling snake-eyes ever since Nina showed up.

Buffy leaps off her right leg towards Nina. The Titan tosses the bloody sickle in the air from her left hand to her right hand, turns to her right and gashes the left side of Buffy's face, cutting deep into her cheek. Nina puts the lame Slayer on her back with a left kick to the body. Blood flows down her temple and into her hair. Nina, clearly in command, wipes both sides of the blade against her right thigh, taking off Buffy's blood. She looks to her right, at the woozy Spike and seriously injured Buffy. Then she looks to her left at the cowering Potentials, the Watcher, and the ones Nina thinks of as the superfluous humans. All are paralyzed by fear. Nina takes a step towards them, sickle brandished menacingly in front, daring any and all of them to fight for Faith's body. Willow sits with her legs crossed and her forearms resting on the insides of her knees. The stake rests in her two palms. Her eyes are closed as she concentrates, knowing that this is her last chance to hurt Nina. The superfluous humans stand around Willow, offering some sort of last-ditch protection in case Nina wants to stop the spell. She doesn't, since she knows of no way Willow can make it work. Nina puts the sickle in her belt, puts Faith face-down over her left shoulder and begins carrying the precious burden over to what Nina calls "The Converter." No one makes a move to stop her. The Potentials stare at Faith's lifeless body, still having trouble accepting that she is dead. The eyes of everyone else are on Willow.

When Spike finally comes to, he sees Nina on the other side of the Hellmouth with Faith in her arms. Events have clearly taken a fateful turn for the worse. He rushes over to Buffy, who's lying on her back. "I couldn't do it. I failed. I failed them."

He puts his right hand under her skull to prop up Buffy's head. "Bollocks." He looks over his shoulder at Nina. "We all failed them."

"Not Willow. If Willow can do the spell, she can . . . " Buffy grimaces in pain and gasps for breath. "Save them." Spike looks to his left. Willow's face betrays the frustration of a witch still going through her first slump at the worst possible time. Looks like it's all up to William.

"Save them," he says to himself before looking at his right palm. It's covered in blood. He looks again over his shoulder at Nina. Faith faces upwards. Nina supports Faith's back with her right hand. In her left hand is the sickle, which she inserts into Faith's stomach, cutting upwards to her heart. Spike goes bumpy and looks down at Buffy. "Always knew it would come to this." Spike gets on top of her and digs his teeth into the left side of Buffy's neck. She struggles, but is too weak to push him away. Giles, Xander, Dawn, Anya and the Potentials are absolutely horrified. Things really are going to Hell. Giles assumes that Spike's finally switched sides, and sprints towards him, sword-in-hand. After six seconds of drinking, Spike stands up, turns to his left, duck's Rupert's blade, and knocks him down with a right uppercut to the chin. Nina holds her sickle – dripping with blood – up to the sun. Spike makes a dash for her toy. The Merv Stone is suspended four feet up in the air by three eight foot-long steel legs, with an eight foot-long steel pole placed on top of the Stone and pointed towards the Heavens. One tripod leg is on Spike's side. The other two are on Nina's side. He sees her bring the sickle towards the Stone. When he's fifteen feet away, Spike uses his fingers to flick the blood on his right hand toward the device. A drop of Buffy's blood hits the smooth white surface of the polished stone when a drop a Faith's blood is three inches away. When Faith's blood hits the orb, a bolt of lightning shoots out of it and hits Nina, sending her flying fifty feet back into the wall, which she hits twenty feet off the floor.

When Spike gets close, the long, thin conical steel arm bends upwards, impaling him through the stomach. The device's magical properties allow it to keep from tumbling over for a few seconds while one-third of its support is missing. The needle-like arm bends upwards, until gravity causes Spike to slide halfway down. The blood in his stomach pours out, sliding down the arm and onto the Stone, quickly covering it. Buffy lifts her head just in time to see Spike get immolated by the sun streaming in through the hole in the center of the dome. "What's happening?" To her, it feels like everything is falling apart. How could it not?

Once Nina had been rejected by her own device, Willow finally got her mojo working. She opens her eyes, which are completely dilated. "Ruh . . . Kanya . . . Shakhti." The stake catches fire, and burns in her hands.

"Of course, of course!," Giles exclaims. "I can't believe I didn't think of it before he did."

"What?," Buffy asks weakly, since she is light-headed, suffering from shock, and not yet cognizant that things are finally looking up.

"The Stone could only be activated with a Slayer's blood. From the First's point-of-view, yours is the wrong kind. It can't destroy the line of succession with the blood of a Slayer who has no successor."

"That's why Spike bit me?"

"You were the only one who could save the Slayer line." Right now, Buffy more like a hapless martyr than a heroic savior. When the stake has been consumed, and the flames go out, a burst of red light shoots out of the upwards-pointing needle on top of the ball. Willow falls on her back and sucks in air as she attempts to recover from the exertion of energy. Kennedy rushes over to her.

"I did it. I did it sweetie," she says as Kennedy puts her right hand to Willow's forehead. "There's still a chance."

"What the hell was that?," Gunn asks. He is currently two miles south of Sunnydale.

"Kinda looked like a big laser," Fred responds.

"Some sort of aiming device for a ground-to-air missile?," Wes theorizes. "Probably part of practice maneuvers."

"At this hour? On this day?," Angel points out.

"How would the military know about that?," Wesley asks. "They're not even involved."

"They will be in about another mile," Gunn points out.

"Run it," Angel orders. "They're not going to risk shooting American civilians. It would be a p.r. nightmare."

"Provided the world's still around for the six o'clock news," Wes comments. "Buffy, Faith and Spike can't pull this off without the two of you." Fred's cell phone rings.

"Fred! It's Graham!"

"Hello!"

"It's Graham!! I'm in a chopper!

"Graham? Is that you?"

"Just keep going! I've told the guards to let you pass through."

"I can't hear you!" Graham rappels down a fifty foot-rope to the ground just outside the Arena. The chopper rises up again, the pilot trying to find out what's going on by peaking through the twelve foot-wide hole at the dome's sixty foot-high apex.

"Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah."

"The guards will let you through. Don't even slow down."

"Where are you?"

"About three miles north of you. I took a chopper."

"It's Graham," Fred reports to Gunn. "He's taken care of the road block. Don't even slow down."

"Fred, the building's sealed. But we can blast open one of the doors when your friends arrive. Better hurry."

"Better hurry? Why?"

"They went in about twelve minutes ago." Fred hangs up.

"Oh no."

"He's mad you left so early?," Angel asks.

"He's here. And he says the fight's already started." Gunn floors it as Wes, Angel and Connor look horrified. A moment ago, they took it for granted that they were almost an hour early. Now they feared they might be too late.

Nina's just had enough juice put through her to liquify a normal person or incinerate all but the largest demons. She stands up, grits her teeth and slowly walks back to the center of the room. Smoke rises from her head and body. Her long, beautiful straight hair is now frizzy. And the bronze sickle is heated to about five hundred degrees fahrenheit. Smoke billows from her left hand as Nina grips the weapon tightly, so that she may feel more pain, which will spur her to exact more suffering. She leaps effortlessly over the fissure, putting her only fifty feet from the Potentials. They look at each other, wondering who it is. Each of them knows they are not the new Chosen One. By now, Giles has helped Buffy get back to the rest of the group. Dawn and Xander look down at her with concern. "I'm okay. Don't worry. I'm the last person you should be worrying about right now."

"And I'm the first," Nina says from forty feet away, unaware of her little pun. Perfect, Buffy thinks. She's even stealing my puns.

"The transfer of power is not instantaneous," Giles whispers, telling the girls something they had already figured out. "No one knows how long it takes. Perhaps a minute. Perhaps less." He looks at the floor. "Perhaps more," he whispers after allowing a few seconds for a worst-case-scenario pause.

"Which one of us gets it first?," Rona asks.

"You're all getting it," Willow reports as she slowly rises again to her feet, still feeling the effects of the spell.

"Girl's superpower grows," Dawn reports, loosely translating Willow's Sanskrit.

"Extend the girl's power," Giles adds, massaging the syntax with a bit more precision. "Extend Faith's power. Nina has ended the Slayer Line. Though, thanks to Willow, not quite as she intended."

"Wow," Willow responds, considering what she just pulled off. "Guess I shoulda known by now that whenever I start speaking a dead language and I have no idea what I'm saying, something big's about to go down."

Nina stops twenty feet away and paces back and forth. Impatience would indicate that she's lost control of the battle, and Nina believes this is certainly not the case. "Guess I'll do this the fun way: one-at-a-time. Show me the way to the next little girl," she requests with a smirk, showing that her first major setback hasn't destroyed her sense of whimsy. Ariella steps forward, swinging their sling. The stone bounces off Nina, causing no damage.

"Wait your turn," Nina says with a smile. "You'll all have a chance to be killed by me. Except for you," she adds, pointing at Buffy. "You get to feel what I went through." Though in incredible pain and missing close to half her blood, Buffy wills herself to stand up on her one good leg while using the longsword in her left hand as a makeshift crutch. Incapacitating injuries be damned. She's too tough not to go down fighting.

Nina looks at Buffy and revels in the knowledge that, in order to save the Slayer Line, her enemies had to sacrifice a Slayer, a vampire, and incapacitate the Slayer who can't be replaced. If this was their idea of a war of attrition, they weren't gonna last so long. Nina starts hoping the good guys bring in Angel and Connor to replace Spike and Buffy. Then, with the new Slayer, it would be a fair fight again: three-on-one. While Nina's distracted, Kennedy grabs the (normal-size) sledgehammer, runs at the Titan and pounds her in the chest. Nina falls on her ass. Kennedy strikes her again in the chest as Nina tries to stand up. She retreats. Kennedy leaps through the air and knocks Nina down with flying right kick to the face. On her way down, and as her opponent is falling, Kennedy pounds Nina's face with the hammer. When Nina tries to sweep her legs, Kennedy does a forward flip. Giles and Willow manage small, cautious smiles. Nina leaps at Kennedy with a flying right kick of her own. Kennedy ducks and rolls forward out of the way. She turns round to see Nina running towards her, tries to hammer the Titan's knees, but Nina does a forward flip. Kennedy avoids Nina's right kick, then knocks her down with a hammer to the left knee. The new Slayer leaps over Nina in order to place herself between the Titan and all the people she's trying to protect.

"You're liking this too much, honey," Nina says to her opponent. As Nina rises to her feet, Kennedy starts spinning the hammer in a figure-eight motion. Once she gets up to speed, Kennedy goes to work, hitting Nina in the head, body, shoulders, arms, thighs, face and neck. Eleven blows in all before Nina falls down at the edge of the Hellmouth. Kennedy catches her breath. She had forced Nina nearly thirty feet back and delivered some serious hurt: more than Buffy and Spike combined. She goes for Nina's knees, forcing her to move her legs leftward. Now that Nina's body in sideways – parallel to the Hellmouth – she aims for Nina's right hip, forcing her to roll her body towards the fissure. Kennedy kicks her in the back with her left foot. Nina rolls into the hole, grabbing onto the edge with both hands. She looks up to see Kennedy swing for her right hand. Nina pulls that hand away, rocks to the left, then rocks back to the right. Kennedy hits Nina's left hand, but she still manages to swing her body back up, landing to Kennedy's left. Now they both stand on the precipice. Nina tries a right hook kick to knock Kennedy into the Hellmouth. She ducks and spins clockwise, putting Nina's back to the hole and Kennedy's back to the Scoobies and Potentials. Nina lunges forward and lands a left cross. Then a right roundhouse kick. Kennedy stays on her feet. She could get used to this level of physical resiliency.

When Nina tries a right hook, Kennedy preempts her with a left roundhouse kick to the chest. Then an uppercut swing of the hammer to Nina's chin, followed by a powerful wallop to her left jaw. Nina spreads her feet wide to keep from falling. But this also reduces her mobility. Kennedy lands a third straight head shot, this one to the right side of Nina's skull, just above her ear. This is beginning to remind Buffy of how she finished off Glory. Nina tries a right hook kick. Kennedy backs away, and the follow-through causes a wobbly Nina to do a three-sixty. When she gets back around, Kennedy is there to greet her with a clobber to the top of her head. Nina's feeling very dizzy by now. Too much pounding messes with her gyroscopic balancing mechanisms. Kennedy winds up and literally smashes Nina's nose inside-out, at least for a moment. The next in Kennedy's series of devastating rapid-fire blows is aimed at the left side of Nina's skull. But she grabs the hammer head with her left hand, stopping it in its tracks. Nina takes hold of the handle with her right hand and swings the weapon back the other way. Barely a second after it was within two inches of Nina's head, the sledgehammer smashes through the top of Kennedy's skull. She slowly falls on her back, her body remaining perfectly straight. Like Faith, who was also a victim of one of Nina's lightning comebacks, Kennedy's final expression is one of shock. Death came so quickly, they didn't even have time to fear it.

"NOOOO!!!," Willow screams as she stares at Nina, her eyes red with fury, her hands outstretched, prepared to unleash hellish torments upon the murderer of her lover. Nina quickly raises the hammer above her head and tosses it at the angry witch thirty feet away. It spins end-over-end and smashes into Willow's skull just above her forehead. Willow couldn't muster the power to block it because she was busy marshalling her strength to attack Nina, and the Titan didn't have enough time to switch from offense to defense. Willow slumps to the floor, blood streaming out of both ears and oozing out of the skull fracture itself.

"Willow!," Xander yells out, rushing to help her. "Willow? Willow? Come on, Willow. Talk to me. Talk to me. Just give me a sign. I know you're still in there, Willow." Buffy looks at Willow, who is fifteen feet to her right. She's too hurt to hop over there, check up on Willow and still be in a position to help defend what's left of the Potentials. She couldn't help Faith. She couldn't help Kennedy. Now she couldn't even be there for her best friend. This was Hell all right.


	73. The Agony of Victory

This is the final chapter of my story. Thank you to all who have read it. Big, huge, extra-special thank you to those who have reviewed it. You are the reason I write and post this stuff.

After killing two Slayers, Nina's finally hitting her stride. "That has to be some sort of record," she comments on Kennedy's thirty second tenure as a Slayer. "You know what? I'm getting bored with doing you one at a time." Nina takes two big steps forward, then leaps at the five Potentials, sickle in her outstretched left hand. Two of the girls were already badly injured, and could hardly stand up, let alone offer much resistance. Dawn, who stands to their right, steps forward and leftward so that she's five feet in front of the girls, then swings the samauri sword downward and to the left, cutting Nina diagonally from her left shoulder to her right hip. Dawn backs up a step. Nina heals within a second, but she has to put her feet on the ground and stand still for this to occur. That puts her six feet in front of the Potentials, and prevents her from beheading Rona on her way down, as she had intended. Dawn then slices right-to-left, cutting through Nina's neck. "Let me show you how it's done," Nina threatens, raising her weapon. Before she can swing it and slice open Dawn's throat, Buffy leaps at Nina from the right, taking her down. They roll one time around, then Buffy gets on top. This was the sort of fighting she could do despite her lack of mobility. The point wasn't to kill Nina, just to delay her long enough for the next Slayer to rise. At this moment, none of the quintet has yet to feel the Power.

Buffy nails Nina in the nose with five right jabs in a row. "Is that the best you got?," Nina taunts. Buffy drives her left fist into Nina's throat, squeezing her neck down so that it is momentarily only two inches thick. Buffy doesn't know it, but of all the ways to hurt a Titan, squeezing and compacting their flesh is the most painful. Nina tries a left hook as she lies on her back. Buffy moves her head up and out of range, then lands three left jabs to Nina's chest and two right hooks to her face. Nina realizes she can put an end to all this punishment by exploiting Buffy's broken left leg. She uses her own two good legs to grab hold of Buffy's waist, rock to the left and flip her so Nina's now on top. She grips Buffy's throat with her right hand. Buffy struggles with both hands to keep from getting choked. "Your boyfriend didn't put up this much of a fight. Not nearly. Ain't that just like a man?" Nina lets go of Buffy's throat. Giles hits Nina in the back of the head with the hammer that killed Kennedy and felled Willow. The Titan pretends not to notice. She throws six left roundhouse punches. Each one clobbers Buffy's face and drives the back of her head into the stone floor. During this flurry, Giles lands three more blows to Nina's head, to no avail. Nina grabs Buffy's throat with her left hand, then spins around as she stands up, putting Buffy between Giles and herself. Rupert backs up two steps. Nina launches Buffy twenty feet forward. Her back hits the wall three feet above the top of the door, and she falls face-first to the floor ten feet below.

Giles glances back at the Potentials. Nothing yet. Nina picks up the sickle, which she dropped when Buffy tackled her, and resumes her attack on the girls. Buffy comes to, opens her eyes and raises her head to watch, but she hasn't the strength to help. (All part of the Hell Nina wants to put her through. Why else didn't she kill Buffy?) Giles swings the sledgehammer downward. Nina reaches her right arm up and across her body, grabs the shaft and rips the weapon from Rupert's grasp, chucking it to her left, and to the Potentials' right. Nina raise the sickle in her left hand and puts her right foot forward. But Anya attacks from Nina's left, driving her ax through the middle of Nina's left forearm. She has to hold off on the death blow, lest her severed hand come off her arm. Nina decides instead to quickly put Giles on his back with a straight right kick to the chin. Dawn, who stands in front of Nina, swings her sword straight down, slicing Nina's body in half. Again, she must momentarily pause to allow her body to sew itself back together. Initially, Nina wanted to kill Dawn solely to get back at Connor. But the girl's proving to be such an annoying pest that now Nina wants Dawn to suffer as well. To Nina's right, in front of Giles, stands Xander. He hits the left side of Nina's face with the baseball bat in his right hand. She already felt sorry for Xander, on account of his lack of powers and the fact that her brother had cut off his left hand. Now she had to hurt the poor guy. The spectators weren't playing their part. Nina would make sure they had no choice.

Nina catches Dawn's sword with her sickle. With her left foot, she kicks Anya in the left shin, fracturing her tibia when the ax blade is nine inches from the left side of Nina's head. Anya cries out in pain, drops the weapon and falls down. Nina spins her sickle around a few times, taking Dawn's sword along for the ride. Dawn does her best to hold on, until Nina kicks her right foot up into Dawn's hands, sending the sword up in the air. Xander strikes Nina's face with the bat. Nina absorbs the blow, puts her sword in her belt, ducks down, spins clockwise and drives her left index finger into Dawn's right kneecap, shattering it like a hammer smashing into the center of a dinner plate. Dawn screams. Her sword hits the ground a fifth of a second after Nina administered the agonizing wound. Dawn falls down, her eyes watering in pain. Nina grabs Xander's bat as he swings, ripping it out of his hands. She puts her left hand under his right elbow and her right hand on his right wrist, then snaps his forearm back at an unnatural angle, breaking his ulna. Xander groans and also falls down. Nina sends a quick glance Buffy's way. She knows how much it must hurt Buffy to watch her friends get manhandled and be unable to do anything about it.

Nina brandishes the sickle in her right hand, slashing Dawn across her stomach, then driving the point into Anya's upper abdomen and towards her diaphragm. They were already down, and these wounds were meant to punish them for getting in the Titan's way. Buffy leaps at her yet again, grabbing Nina's legs and putting the Titan on her back. Nina laughs. "You got a body that won't quit." Buffy sends her left middle finger through Nina's right eye, thinking that this was the best way to say "Fuck you." Nina skewers Buffy, sending the sickle six inches into the soft tissue a few inches above her left pelvis. Nina puts her right foot against Buffy's chest and pushes her back towards the door. "Now where were we?," Nina asks the Potentials as she vaults to her feet.

Nina rushes at the girls, raising the weapon to strike Madari. Giles grabs her right arm from behind and pulls her away. Nina falls down behind Giles, who turns around, interposing himself between the Potentials and their potential murderer. Ariella rushes out to help. Giles holds her back with his right arm. "You're not ready." He knows that he couldn't restrain a Slayer that easily, hence the fact that he could restrain her proved his point. Giles stands in Nina's path, with nothing but a dagger in his right hand. Nina doesn't understand why she can't sense any desperation in him. It's because Giles no longer sees an invincible enemy in front of him. He sees a weary warrior with a battered head, a ruined right eye, a sucking chest wound he could look clear through, and a torn and tattered jumpsuit. The frizzy hair added to the look of exhaustion. "You're on your last legs, Nina," Giles declares.

"Absurdity is the last refuge of the brave," she responds. Nina steps forward, whips her right arm around, as if pitching a softball, then drives the point of her sickle into his belly button. Giles grimaces and drives his knife through her left eye. Nina growls in displeasure as she pulls her sickle eight inches upwards, slicing open his belly. "And the tragic part of this is, I really liked you." Nina pulls the sickle out, grabs Rupert's neck with her left hand and tosses him through the air so Giles lands on his back a few feet to Buffy's right. She rolls to her right and looks down at him.

"It's alright," he whispers with a smile before coughing up some blood and gasping for air. "I always thought . . . it would be more just . . . if sometimes . . . the Watcher died, and the Slayer lived."

"No. No, no, no," Buffy stammers as tears roll down her cheeks. "You can't die. I won't let you die."

"Pay attention," Giles faintly whispers, a roguish half-smile slowly creeping across his face. "Or you might miss the best part."

"That should do it," Nina concludes as she looks around and sees that every defender of these girls is either dead, dying or maimed. She had no idea ordinary humans could be such a pain. Nina stands twenty feet in front of her targets, her hands on her hips. "Who's next?," she asks them with her wicked smile. Ariella and Fadila swing their slings. Nina begins to laugh. Until the rocks hit her chest and knock her ten feet back and on her ass. "No. No!," she yells while returning to her feet. "There can't be two of you." Amanda, Rona and Madari each hurl a stone, putting Nina back on her ass.

"You're right about that," a teary-eyed Rona responds in a low, quaking growl. The girls all glance at one another. The infusion of Slayer Power has made Amanda and Fadila able to fight despite their injuries, at least temporarily. They are all extremely traumatized from watching so many people suffer and die a few few in front of them in order to keep them safe. With rage, grief and vengeance, the quintet charges Nina. Blue light projects out of her two eye sockets. Losing one eye cost her depth perception, which wasn't that much of a problem. But losing both has caused a number of difficulties. For one thing, Nina's now color-blind. Even worse, images are fuzzy. It's like seeing the world through an out-of-focus infra-red camera. Nina can spot five blobs moving very quickly towards her. But she can't tell what weapons each of them is holding, or if they are holding any at all. She can't tell which two of Slayers are badly injured. They happen to be on the outside: Fadila on Nina's far right, Amanda on her far left, Rona in the center, Madari on Nina's near left, and Ariella on her near right. Nina takes a swing with her sickle and Fadila and Ariella. Fadila moves further to her left. Ella ducks under the blade and gets behind Nina. Rona flies through the air and puts Nina on her back with a leaping right kick to the head. Before the mighty Titan can get up, Amanda grabs her left arm. Ariella grabs her right arm. Fadila stomps on Nina's right wrist with her right foot, squeezing the sickle of of her hand. Fadila picks it up with her right hand and chucks the evil weapon down into the Hellmouth.

Nina rises to her feet. Ella has her right arm. Amanda and Rona cling to her left arm. She thrashes, trying to escape their grips. When she tries to kick Madari, the newly-minted Slayer grabs her left leg. Fadila grabs right leg. Rona lets go of Nina's right shoulder and grabs the Titan's head. Nina struggles harder. But it's no use. The Slayers all look at one another for a few seconds. "NOW!!!," Rona yells. The five of them pull as hard as they can, ripping Nina's body apart. They fall down fifteen feet from where they started. Only when they see Nina's torso lying alone do they realize what they've accomplished.

Nina's eyes dart around as Rona stands up, holding the enemy's head. Nina glances downward. "This is new." Not to worry. A body was nothing more than the sum of its parts. And, lacking a conventional central nervous system, Titan body parts enjoyed a high degree of autonomy. This is why Nina had to look to see that she was disassembled: she could still feel all her parts — and control them. Nina chokes Ariella with her right hand, and Amanda with her left hand. Rona drops Nina's head and rushes over to help Amanda, who's turned beet-red. Fadila drops the right leg and tries to help Ariella. The two girls turn purple and fall to their knees. Anya grabs her ax with her right hand and slides it over to Madari. Rona is attempting to yank the left arm off of Amanda when Madari comes over and chops the arm away from the hand with Anya's ax. Amanda is then able to use her own two hands to rip Nina's hand off her throat. The other girls notice that Nina's body is trying to reassemble itself. Rona tosses the arm twenty feet behind Amanda. Madari takes her ax to Nina's two legs, which have managed to get within a few feet of the bottom of her torso. She chops up the legs. Meanwhile, Fadila helps Ariella pull Nina's right arm away from Ella's throat. She gasps for air as Fadila chops up the arm with a short sword before falling down due to her own injuries. With her two hands and one good leg, Dawn drags herself over to the sledgehammer.

"Rona!," Dawn yells. She turns around, and Dawn tosses it towards her feet. Rona grabs the bloody sledgehammer and races back to Nina's head, which lies on the ground, the face looking upwards. "This is for Kennedy," Rona says, bringing the hammer down on the now-helpless Titan. Her head quickly regains it shape. "And Faith." Another hit. "And Rupert Giles." Another hit. "And Molly!" Another hit. "And Zora!" Another hit. "Oh what the hell, even Spike." One final smash. The head is now a flattened blob of protoplasm. Meanwhile, Madari's dismembered the torso. The body parts turn liquid, and flow separately into the Hellmouth. The girls look at each other. They know they did what had to be done. But none of them feels anything close to joy or satisfaction.

The ground begins to tremble slightly. More turokh-hans rush out of the Hellmouth. Twenty more, actually. They overrun the scattered Slayers, quadruple-team each girl, punch them until they fall, kick them while they're down, then head straight for the helpless injured humans. Buffy covers Giles, who's still breathing. Xander shields Anya, who is also barely clinging to life. Dawn tries to protect Willow. The cruel reality is that the protectors are as helpless as the protected, and five Slayers can't kill twenty uber-vamps before a few of them have a chance to bite six humans who can't even stand on their own two legs. They need a miracle.

Gunn is within a quarter mile of the Arena when the ground shakes violently. The van bounces. Gunn slows down from sixty to thirty to keep from flipping over.

"Stop," Fred suggests.

"Keep going," Angel commands.

"On what?," Fred asks. "The ground that's shifting five feet in each direction every second?"

"This is a big one," Gunn says as he slows to twenty, but keeps moving. "At least a six."

"At least a seven," Fred corrects him.

"I think the world's ending," Wesley worries.

"Earthquakes precede apocalypses," Angel counters. They are less than two hundred yards away.

"There's Graham!," Fred announces. "He's goin' in." Graham blows the south door open himself and enters, demon-zapping gun in hand. He wants to get a sense of the situation before Fred and her friends arrive, and possibly provide them with converging fire. The people in peril are more than one hundred feet away, on the other side of the Arena.

"They already had a precursor earthquake," Wes reminds Angel. This is Connor first quake. That, coupled with all this apocalypse talk, and the fact that Dawn is inside, causes Connor to try to jump out the back door and run on in there. Angel grabs him.

"We go in together."

"What if that's too late?"

The girls stand up and try to run over to help the other, but these new, much stronger, trembles knock the Slayers off their feet. The uber-vamps look up at the ceiling and seem to lose interest in their tasty snacks. The Hellmouth begins to close. The demons turn around, run back and leap down into the fissure, deciding to return home now that this dimension has been lost. The Slayers watch, stunned, as the enemy races past them while they struggle back to their feet.

"Open it!," Stella orders as the ground shakes and all the soldiers and medics take cover. "Open it!!" She has no authority over them, but a soldier presses the button to detonate the C-4 that was attached to the south door. She rushes into the collapsing building, which hardly seems like a prudent course of action to everyone else outside. Bricks in the dome's ceiling start to tumble down all around the Slayers. Madari helps the injured Amanda get back to the outer wall, which is holding, keeping Buffy and the others protected. Ariella helps the injured Fadila. After a few steps, she pushes Ella away.

"I'm fine! Get Kennedy!" At first Ella thinks Fadila's in massive denial. Then she looks to her left, where Fadila is pointing. Now she understands, and runs over to the body. The falling masonry prevents Graham from getting across the Arena. He saw the uber-vamps jump into the ground. The first thing he thinks of is the apocalypse Riley helped Buffy avert, where the end of the world was caused by demons jumping into the Hellmouth as a sacrifice. But there's a lot more than three of these guys. Besides, he can't get close enough to engage them without risking being crushed.

Meanwhile, Stella sticks her head back outside. "We got six down! All critical! Hey! People are dying in here!!" Trained to risk their lives to save others, the dozen medics hurry inside, single file, carrying what equipment they can while trying to keep from falling down as the ground lurches under their feet. The Mayor looks down at Giles, whose eyes brighten when he sees her.

"Job well done," he says to her, looking to his left. He turns his head to the right to look at Buffy. "Job well done." Then he closes his eyes. They both burst into tears.

"No. No Rupert. Hold on. The doctor's here," Estella pleads. "Please hold on."

"Giles. Giles?," Buffy asks in between sobs. "You can't do this. Not now. Stay with me. Please, stay with me." She buries her head on his chest and cries. Stella backs up to let the medics help him. Two others pull Buffy off him and take a look at her own serious injuries. "I'm fine! I'm fine!," she tells them. "Help the others. They need you. I don't."

The ground on the opposite side of the Hellmouth moves forward and upward. The Merv Stone and its supports fall apart and crash to the ground. Since they're under the hole in the center of the dome, no bricks fall on them and cause damage, meaning the charmed stone is still mystically active. Rona runs away from the others in order to get Faith's body, which is on the other side of the Hellmouth. Several two or three foot-wide chunks of masonry nearly hit her. She leaps three feet up onto the other side, which is still rising. Taking Faith in her arms, she leaps back down and runs towards the gang, who lie sixty feet away. Twenty feet on, a chunk slams into her head and back, knocking her down. Madari rushes over, helps Rona up and takes the body, only to get struck down herself ten feet later. Rona picks Faith up again and makes it the rest of the way, with Madari following close behind. The lower half of the dome holds, so nothing is falling within twenty feet of the outer walls. Ariella has already brought Kennedy back to the safe area, taking a single brick to the forehead along the way without going down. She puts her right hand to the wound to keep the blood from getting on Kennedy. Fadila helps Ariella carry their former leader the last few feet.

Gunn slams on the brakes at the edge of the trench. The five of them jump out, rush across the stone bridge (which, amazingly, has held) and sprint the last forty feet to the open door. When they are twenty feet away, the tremors stop. Gunn, Fred and Wes pause, while Angel and Connor continue on. "Is this a good sign?," Fred asks Wes.

"Hellmouth stopped opening," Gunn assumes. "World's still here."

"It's over," Wesley concludes.

"Is that a yes?," Fred asks regarding her question.

"We're too late," he adds before running to the door. Gunn follows right behind.

"Also a no," Fred decides before rejoining them. Connor and Angel bound up over the debris and past Graham, who stands in the center of the room and radios a status report to the commander back at the base overlooking the ruined town three miles to the east. Connor races straight for Dawn. Angel goes over to Buffy and Giles. Wesley, when he makes it across about ten seconds after them, hurries over to Faith's body. Gunn and Fred stop thirty feet away and survey the scene: the blood, the injured, the corpses, the near-dead, and the five bleeding, shell-shocked teenage girls look like mournful, lost zombies. The good guys had prevailed. But at what cost?

The narrative will be continued in a new story entitled "Picking up the Pieces," the bulk of which will be set in Los Angeles and chronicle the beginnings of an alternate Season Five.


End file.
